


Everybody’s Fool

by Silver_Locket



Series: That’s Life [1]
Category: DC Extended Universe, Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, But still cute ykwim?, Curse my unholy delays, F/M, Fluff, Gore, He is smol but she is smolr, How Do I Tag, I tried my hardest to keep him in character ok, Implied/Referenced Suicide, I’m stalling can you tell, Mentions Of Schizophrenia, Minor canon divergence, Movie Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader kinda not freeform actually, S T A I R S, Sad bird-shaped cinnamon roll, Self-Hatred, Symbolism, Their relationship is weird yo, They both need love, Watch your step there’s angst everywhere, Weird Fluff, accidental fluff, fast burn, flower symbolism, ish, more angst than fluff, oleander - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Locket/pseuds/Silver_Locket
Summary: Things aren’t black and white, little canary. There is no good and evil. Stop trying to change things you have no control over, and your heartache will cease.





	1. Melancholia

You didn’t even know where you were anymore. Having ridden the same bus for what seemed like several hours, your body numb and asleep against the jolting fabric seat. A Saturday. A day that left you with little obligation, but nothing else. And what could you do, besides take to the wind and stop thinking entirely? 

_ What else could you do? _

_ How long had it truly been? _

People left the bus, got back on.. rinse, and repeat. Yet not one soul disturbed you, in your little corner. Not one person tried to engage you in conversation. And sitting on the aisle as you were, no one ever took the window seat adjacent to you. Which you were beyond fine about, more space to store your enormous messenger bag. 

But the fact still stood. Sure, you liked the space, but you often yearned for someone that you could have a friendly conversation with. But not one person on the entire span of time you’d been on this god-forsaken bus, not one even acknowledged your existence.

Okay, maybe you had to be assertive on your own behalf. You understood that. You want to talk to people? You had to initiate, yourself. But every time you only thought about trying, your trembling hands and thrashing heartbeat held your tongue.

_ What if they didn’t even want to talk? _

_ _ The people of this city were cold, just like the metal behemoth of your Gotham City itself. And perhaps that was not an optimal setting for a person…. like you.

Your.. fear of reality always kept you six feet under the line of water that was your existence. This city was a metal labyrinth, where only the strongest and most powerful were the ones who “mattered.”

_ And you were certainly neither of those. _

A flick of your wrist brings your watch into sight. 3:42.

You’d been on this bus for just over two hours.

_ Not that it mattered. _

_ Because what was more appealing, doing nothing in the pitch black shadows of your apartment, or in the sun, or in the sun, on this bus to nowhere? _

_ _ Honestly? You couldn’t decide. That apartment wasn’t even yours. Or was it? Your parents had bought it for you. 

Your very wealthy parents.

So yes, while you were technically a part of Gotham’s upper echelon, at the same time, you  _ weren’t. _

Sure, they had bought you an apartment (it wasn’t fancy, everything you had, you valued practicality over beauty), but everywhere else? You were on your own. 

They were hard workers. Often they were given hard times by the general populace, but you knew their truth. 

_ Maybe ‘knew’ was too generous a word… you knew, but you didn’t  _ ** _know._ **

Their little section of the city that you knew not enough about.

Your father, a CEO of an enormous arms manufacturing industry, you knew little to nothing about what he truly did. 

And your mother, a high politician. Last you were updated, she had been running for office alongside many others. You could’ve sworn you had seen her on television alongside Mr. Wayne.

..And that left you. Their only daughter. You always told yourself that you didn’t mind living in their shadows. You had told yourself, (and only yourself,) that you never wanted to be a burden to them. They were successful, and yes, they shared your blood, but you had to carve your own path through your future. That you didn’t mind living a seemingly normal life alongside the other people in the city. It seemed, almost easy.

You had said that when you were still young.

When they still wrapped their arms around you lovingly.

Before they turned away from you, and turned their gaze towards the city.

And only then did you realize your own staggering naïveté. You certainly weren’t used to the reality of your Gotham’s true form. And you  _ still  _ weren’t used to it.

Only once in a blue moon, did your mother call, her breathless voice asking how you were, are you taking your medications, sorry I missed our monthly coffee meet-up, et cetera. 

You knew it wasn’t personal.

You tried your hardest to let everyone around you know that everything was fine. 

You tried your damndest to keep a smile on your face.

And then the shadows appeared.

It was like the sun in your mind had been eclipsed and was never going to come back out.

You thought it was just sadness you were feeling. But normal sadness didn’t conjure a fog around your thoughts and make your hands tremble like you were in pain.

You had isolated yourself. And the metal city around you was too cold to warm you back up again.

You’d cry into the night sometimes, but the tears ran out quickly, and then you’d be sick with dehydration. That was no fun. And when there were no tears, you’d simply stop thinking for hours on end, until it warmed up just enough for you to keep moving forward.

_ It was a vicious cycle, but then again… what could you do? _

Truly, you were just another fractal in the infinite shattered pane of glass that was this city. 

The medication you were taking only made the clouds clear momentarily. But the worst only occurred when you stopped taking it… it was a nightmare.

The bottom line… maybe you just wanted a friend to speak to. To feel like someone cared about you enough to acknowledge your existence.

... _ Maybe I could join a- _

Your cloud of thoughts was interrupted abruptly when you heard a strange noise. You had only heard it because other than the constant whirring noise of the bus, it would have been silent.

You glanced around, and noticed a little boy leaning over the back of his seat, giggling and the person behind him, who sat just across the aisle from you.

_ Oh, I hope you never grow up. _

_ _ But then you look towards the person he’s laughing at.

A gaunt-looking man, with dark hair and darker, sunken eyes. He covered his eyes with his hands, and revealed to the boy with a surprised expression. The boy giggled again.

It was actually adorable. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly yourself.

The man’s eyes briefly flicked into your direction.

A flash of embarrassment hit you mid-smile. You were too loud, he heard you!

You were taken slightly aback when he returned a weak smile to you.

Your heart lifted ever so slightly. 

Quickly, his eyes returned to the boy, but was met by a stern glare from supposedly the boy’s mother.

“Could you please stop bothering my kid?”

You visibly wilted.

_ There you are, Gotham. God forbid a child be happy. _

The man mumbled something to the woman that you couldn’t quite catch over the sound of the bus. Your hands moved absentmindedly to your face, and you were startled to find your cheeks slick with liquid. 

_ You had been crying and you didn’t even realize. For how long? I pray no one noticed. _

_ _ You were yet again jolted from your inner thoughts, but this interruption was much more violent.

A sound, loud like gunshots, reverberated in your skin, making your blood freeze. Your eyes darted around, looking for the source and-

That man was  _ laughing.  _ Like his life depended on it. Like getting talked down for a misunderstanding was somehow funny in a way.

_ Like him laughing is covering up something else.  _

_ _ You honestly didn’t know where that last thought came from. It was more like a whisper that came from the back of your skull. 

The man’s erratic laughter continued for long after that little incident, and you couldn’t help but wonder. 

_ Why was that funny to him? _

_ Was he.. ill? _

_ _ You tossed your head in inward anger at your last thought.

_ Heh. Anyone who didn’t immediately flee in any opposing direction of Gotham was already ‘ill’. _

_ _ You couldn’t help but feel pity for that man, though. Attempting niceness to an innocent child, only to be immediately shot down.

Your traitorous eyes grew blurry again.

_ ...Damn it. Stupid, stupid girl. Stop your crying. Stop overreacting. Stop thinking.  _

You obeyed your thoughts, staring at nothing.

————

Not long after, that man got off, with a sullen look in his eyes. You jolted from your hollow stupor. And after he left the bus, a strange feeling had your mind shuffling, a single command running through your head.

_ Follow. _

_ What? Why follow him? He’s unhinged! _

_ _ You mentally slapped yourself. After grabbing your bag, your feet almost dragged yourself off the bus, in pursuit of the man.

————

Arthur walks stiffly, his legs moving mechanically towards the tall set of stairs that led back to his apartment, his gaze trained downward.

At the middle of the alley’s staircase, he stops, his sharp hearing picks up the soft  _ pit-pat _ of someone running up and towards him. 

He braces himself, expecting a fight. But then-

“A-ah, excuse me, sir, s-sir?” A somewhat quiet voice spoke.

Slowly he turns around. Needless to say, he was somewhat surprised at the perpetrator.

It was the pale-haired girl from the bus. Up close, Arthur could see her hands as they shook violently and her eyes looked dark and somber, the telltale sign of a lack of sleep. 

However, he had an odd feeling about this stranger. A feeling of…  _ familiarity? _

“..Yes?” He returns her query.

Her eyes dart around, like a bird.

“Ah… well, um, I’m sorry about that… incident, yes. I was watching, you see… I know you meant no harm.. and I just felt bad about the outcome… you know?”

“...Oh?” Arthur’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

_ This was certainly more preferable than being mugged, but much more strange. _

“Uh-huh.”

“Well… thank you for that, miss. But there’s... no reason for you to worry. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Ah. Well then..” She taps her foot lightly against concrete.

A long stretch of silence between them.

“I’d best be going, then.”

She turns to descend back down from whence she came.

“Wait..” Arthur calls.

She stops, and looks back at him.

“What’s your name?”

She pauses for a long moment, but her voice returns, and she tells him her name.

“Oh.. I’m Arthur.” He returns with his own.

She dips her head ever so slightly, into what looks like a small bow. “Nice to meet you, Arthur,” she says with the smallest smile. “See you.. around?” She turns back, and her feet lightly pad back down the stairs, leaving Arthur still in the middle of the flight.

His eyes stared down the path, for long after she had disappeared. 

_ That’s a beautiful name. _

And for the first time, in for what felt like centuries, there was no burning urge to burst into laughter from every other moment in his life. It almost felt sobering. 

————

To your extreme surprise, the flight of stairs you had ended up at was not very far from your own home. Maybe two miles, give or take. You didn’t mind much, getting off where you did. A brisk, silent walk in the setting winter sun would do you good. 

_ Your house was dark. Just like your city.  _

You always hoped, that you could find someone, or something that could bring back the light, at least for you. 

_ No luck just yet. _


	2. Retrouvailles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, I’m glad to see you guys like this so far! Anyway since this is mostly a passion project of mine, it won’t be a super long work... but it’s gonna be so bittersweet anyway.

It was a cold walk back to your own home. Often, the tall buildings of Gotham blocked the sun’s light out before it had even set, shrouding the metal city in a premature twilight. Inwardly you chuckle, it was almost a metaphor for the people of this city.

Your feet padding down the cracking sidewalk, puddles of rainwater rippling as you moved past, the gentle cadence of ever expanding rings soothing you just like the cool night breezes-

You halted, the cloud of your breath ceasing, as you stood stock-still to listen.

There was always a sense of being followed when you walked the city streets at night, but for some reason, the feeling was stronger at this moment.

_ It’s probably some poor urchins waiting for the perfect moment to mug and rob me blind. _

As much as you hated the thought, you honestly couldn’t blame them.

_ Those poor, underfed kids… _

You saw them true. Children like stray cats, turning to minor crime and theft just to get by in this metal city.

You knew, and shivered at your thoughts..  _ You could have been exactly the same if you had not been born into the hands that you were. _

_ I hope I’m not already there… _

_ _ You were falling somewhere dark, already. You weren’t quite sure where and when you were going to land.

You prayed that the impact wouldn’t hurt too much.

Your head hung perpetually low, watching your feet carry you mechanically.

God above, it was getting dark. Your pace picked up.

_ How much farther is the way back t- _

_ _ **SMACK.**

You had rammed head-on into a brick wall. The wind was knocked completely out of your lungs as you teetered backwards and fell, landing squarely into a very large puddle.

You sat there for a long moment, stunned. Icy water crept up the fabric of your pants. You let out a tiny shiver. As you started to pick yourself back up, your pant legs, now saturated with the rain water, shook so brutally that you panicked, fearful that you may fall again. 

But then you realized the issue.

Your upper body, still somewhat warm, clashed with your icy legs. An imbalance. 

You could… continue home, and bundle up, wait ages to dry…

_ Or… you could…? _

_ _ A ghost of a smile pricked the sides of your mouth upward. You looked forward, up that sidewalk, and noticed several, large puddles dotting the path.

Slowly, you pulled off your flats, your feet now bare to the ground. And without thinking, your foot was submerged back into that chilly water.

The lack of covering heightened the freezing temperature tenfold, and you almost squealed in alarm. But as quickly as it came, it was replaced by a familiar numbness.

The second foot followed suit, and suddenly you were walking again. First slowly, and then quicker, you almost skipped along the sidewalk, arcs of water flying through the air with each impact you made in every puddle you found, drenching your pants higher and higher. 

You actually began to giggle.

_ Wonders never cease. Am I actually having fun? _

_ God, I hope people aren’t watching. _

_ _ You froze, mid-jump, after that last thought, your grip on the reality around you quickly returning.

_ Oh, I am such a fool, such a fool! _

_ _ Hurriedly you slipped your flats back on, and continued your walk back home. You couldn’t possibly be too far by now. You were focused on getting back home… to the comfort of your little hidden nest…

That is, until a relatively large, crystal clear puddle caught your eye. It was mesmerizing, and definitely calling your name…

Your eyes darted in every direction, but the only person you saw was very far to your south, they were probably too far away to notice your silliness.

Your impulse won, and this time, you gathered your muscles and jumped, both feet landing hard in that puddle. 

Water flew high, erupting up and around you like a crystalline halo of sorts. It splashed against your blouse and you giggled again, now thoroughly drenched with the freezing water, all the way up past your hips.

_ Enough games. Go home, it’s dangerous out here. _

_ _ Your rationale had finally broken the door down on your mind. Shivering, you started to run again, praying that whoever was giving you the feeling of being watched- wasn’t going to go through with mugging you.

———— 

When you finally returned back to your small townhouse dripping and shivering, the sky was dark as ink. You were awed at how quickly the night had come.

_ It’s the winter, remember? _

_ _ “Of course I remember…” You whisper, to no one in particular- your words, like a radio, losing volume as it fell out of its tuning.

Quickly you slid past your slightly opened door and quietly pushed it closed, locking it behind you. Immediately you peeled off your damp clothes and shuffled into a new, dry set of sleepwear and wrapped yourself with three different blankets.

You weren’t freezing anymore. This was the best way to warm up. Wrapped in soft covers, this kind of warmth was your favorite- very feeling, very  _ real. _

You looked to your radio, sitting on the low-down table next to the sofa. Lowering down on the cushions, you reached to turn the knob and adjust, finding whatever news Gotham had to tell you. 

The radio squeaked, white noise increasing and decreasing in volume. You were only able to pick up bits and pieces.

“Tensions in lower Go…... intue to rise, policemen alarmed…. reports of attacks…. increasing severity..”

Nothing new, really. You turn the knob further.

“Election… a Mr. Wayne leading polls with his…. ..with the help of one Ms. Cecelia…. y might be able to get things fi… round here”

You touched the radio again.

_ Hi, mom.  _

_ _ The only reply was white noise.

_ Remember how when I was a kid, I used to run around and jump into puddles when it was pouring down rain? _

_ _ You smiled. You did indeed remember. Remembered your father holding you up like a scolded, drenched kitten, as you sneezed erratically. He would always tell you not to do that again, which you never listened to. Whenever it rained, your mother was there to brush the fallen dead leaves out of your hair, and maybe she didn’t mind doing that. The colds you got, however, were enough to halt your mischief. 

_ “How did you even manage to get all these leaves in your hair, little dove?” _

_ “I’m sorry, Ma-Ma.” _

_ “Well, I guess birds need bird baths every now and then.” _

_ “*Ach-chip!*” _

_ “Aha! You even sneeze like a bird! They must’ve swapped you with an egg when you were born!” _

_ “I’m  _ ** _not _ ** _ a bird, Ma-Ma!” _

You smiled. You missed those days. You leaned against your radio.

_ I guess I was feeling a little nostalgic tonight, y’know?” _

Your mind was growing hazy. Wrapped up in your shielding blankets you drifted away, thinking about sneezing chicks.

————

  
  


You didn’t sleep much that night, which was pretty normal by now. You’d fall asleep, wake up about two hours later, stare at nothing for a while, rinse, repeat. It was Sunday, and you now actually had several obligations. 

After rising from the couch, you looked out the window, to your little planter box of exclusively white flowers, when something caught your eye.

A yellow bird. Sitting right there on the edge of the box, looking in.

You were in awe, there were plenty of white, grey, brown, and black birds, but  _ yellow? _

_ It must be an omen of good luck or something! _

_ _ You got off the couch, moving closer to get a better look, when the curtain on the side suddenly blocked your view of the bird. You grabbed it and pulled back, but-

A grey bird there. A dove. Not yellow.

You were disappointed for a moment, but let it slide as you watched the dove flitter off.

_ Must’ve just been the sunlight. Or my mind’s playing tricks on me. _

_ _ You tried to pay it no mind as you finished getting ready for the day, there were many things to get done.

Maybe you could speak to your mother, finally…?

_ ...Do yellow birds inhabit Gotham? _

A question that would be answered another day, perhaps. 

_ Anyway, thank you for visiting, little friend. Today will hopefully be a good day. _

_ ...Hopefully. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry, all reader stuff in this chapter. Stuff is gonna get r e a l in the next chapters, though.
> 
> If you have any criticism or just thoughts, please leave a comment. It helps me improve! Also it gives me big happy feels.


	3. Calm before a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not my best chapter, dksskdjxfff  
It got long so I split the chapter in two so sorry if it’s boring or OOC at all. Whatev. Enjoy these semi-fluffy dorks.

You pushed your front door open, taking one last look at your reflection in the mirror. After sweeping your floors and washing any leftover dishes, you found something presentable to wear. You had chosen your whitest dress to wear, along with grey leggings, your flats, and your mother’s light brown trench coat- the one that reminded you so much of her.

Tears stung your eyes again.

_ Oh, no, not again. _

And this time, you really were having a rough time concealing them. 

_ Oh mother… _

_ _ You softly closed the door behind you, the key turning… and off you went.

_ Why did you have to leave your dove behind? _

A heavy tear ran down the lump of your cheekbone.

_ No crying. No more tears. You’ll ruin your mascara, little girl. _

_ _ Carefully, you tried to blot away that black rivulet with your sleeves.

_ I hope I have some makeup handy…  _

_ _ You shuffle through your bag, but find no said makeup.

.. _ Damn it. _

You let it slide, however. There simply was no room for you to worry about your little trivial things. Once again, you began to walk. 

You truly had no idea what the problem with your mind was. All it took was one little slip, a bloodied knee, a stray animal on the streets, a lost child- almost  _ anything _ emotionally adverse, and your tears ran without fail, every time. Like clockwork.

_ What in God’s name is wrong with you? _

The only way you had hoped to deal with your… episodes, was to isolate yourself even further, hoping that the silence would deafen those painful emotions.

Your hope couldn’t be further from the truth. No matter how often other humans hurt, or killed, your mind longed for companionship. Humans are, almost a pack-orientated species. Isolation… it does things to people.  _ Unsavory _ things.

You shook your head in indignance. 

_ This probably isn’t a good way to start your day, girl. _

_ _ You drew in a deep breath, and assessed your surroundings. 

_ I wouldn’t mind another walk through the city… _

_ _ You had already been walking down the sidewalk adjacent to your street, dawn light barely making its way through those tall skyscrapers off in the distance.

A tiny sliver of morning light lands on a shrub alongside the road. You look closer, and smile. The long, thin leaves, and bright white blooms. Oleander. A toxic blossom, but still so brutally captivating to you.

_ Out of all the flowers to pick a favorite from, yours is Oleander? _

_ _ In a way, the flower gave you a sense of… 

You shake your head again, your braid swaying against your neck. 

You lost your train of thought. 

_ Oh well. _

You focused back onto your walk. You suddenly noticed a feeling of deja vu in the back of your head. You were walking in the same direction you had been coming from last night.

You smiled as you remembered the cool breeze, the silence, the numbness-inducing water.

_ Well, alright then _ .  _ I go where the flow takes me! _

_ _ God, you were so cheesy sometimes.

————

Yet again, you weren’t quite sure how long you had been walking for, or how you knew where you were. You had just absentmindedly followed your footsteps for a while.

That was, until you found yourself at the base of a familiar stairwell. 

At the stairwell you had ended up last night. _ _

_ Gee damn. Did I really just walk this far? _

_ _ You could become fitter than a fiddle if you turned this into a regimen of sorts.

You made a mental note to drink more water as you trotted up those stairs, skipping several on your way up.

Rain water splashed upward from the ground you impacted, sprinkling your leggings- and the fringe of your dress-

_ Oh, damn me! _

_ _ You forgot that you had been wearing slightly more… important clothing.

You looked down, assessing the edges of your dress. It looked fine, save for a few droplets of water here and there. 

You slowed down your ascent, slightly. Still looking at your dress when suddenly-

“Aao!” You yelp as your body hits something sturdy, yet warm.

Warm. Definitely not a wall.

Your eyes glance up.

You had just careened into the back of someone who was now turning around. You went full panic mode.

“U-uh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, you.. um..”

Your words died in your throat. It was the man from the bus, yesterday. A burning sensation flooded your head again, brutally embarrassed of the scene you had made and were continuing to make in front of this man.

“Hello… again,” you try, timidly.

His doe-like eyes widened ever so slightly at his recognition of you.

“Oh.. Miss _ from last night?” You give a nod. He smiles, and your face suddenly burns again. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

You let yourself smile a little bit. “That’s me, in the now.”

His eyes darkened for a split second. Your heartbeat jumps.

“What happened to you?” He asks abruptly.

“H-Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Your face… your eye makeup is running. Have you been… crying?”

“...Oh.” Your head droops again.

_ Well this conversation escalated quickly. _

_ _ “I...” You look back down to your feet again, the on-the-spot attention making your resolve stutter again. “Yeah… yeah. I was… a little.”

There was a period of silence between you, which felt like hours instead of three seconds.

“Could you..” He spoke up again. He seemed to be having as much trouble digging for words to say as you were. Your foot drew nervous half-circles on the paved stairs. “Would you… walk with me for a spell?”

You were not expecting him to say that. You looked back to him, your perplexed gaze burning directly into his.

_ Why does he want me to walk with him? _

_ Say no. He’s a stranger.  _

_ I wouldn’t mind the company, though. _

_ Have you not heard of stranger danger, stupid girl? _

_ _ You gave him your best smile. “That would be okay,”

And then he smiled back to you.

————

Arthur was honestly surprised that she had agreed to walk with him at all. But at this point, he was just pleased that she even gave him the time of day. There was something comforting about her, something he couldn’t explain.

_ Don’t say or do anything foolish. Don’t fuck this up. _

The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.

He didn’t get the feeling that she, deep down didn’t want anything to do with him. Last night had been particularly rough for him, considering what had.. happened that day. 

He was stiff, and every muscle in his torso had been screaming in pain. That evening had been cold, too cold.

Until she had showed up.

And she may have been just as cold herself, but her proximity and a strange ember that resembled kindness had soothed him.

Just like it did now. 

As they walked alongside the busy street, she spoke back up again.

“So what is the part you play in Gotham, Arthur?”

————

Yet again, you were blissfully unaware of how much time had passed- that was becoming a dangerous habit of yours. But at this point, you and your new acquaintance were lost in talk, as he told you of his penchant for comedy, his need to help his mother- which seemed noble to you, but there was still something..  _ off _ about this man. You shook the thought away, however. 

_ That’s not a good thing to say. Or think. _

_ _ He told you about his eagerness to become a stand-up comedian, which you, of course, ask for a joke in return.

He certainly had a dark taste for jokes. But the one he shared was clever, you gave him that. Very clever. You chuckled.

“You may have something there, Arthur. I’m impressed.”

“You really think so? You’re certainly the first.”

That last statement hit you with a slight sadness.

“But what about you?”

“Huh?”

“Well… what’s your role here?”

“Oh… there’s not much to tell…”

————

You two had ended up sitting on a bench later, chatting with someone who just yesterday you had no idea existed. You were comfortable now, pointing out an Oleander shrub off in the distance, it’s bright toxic blossoms fluttering in the wind. You hadn’t noticed until now that your hands had stopped their shaking, and your voice losing its stutter as you spoke of the things you loved.

It was like you two had been friends for ages. You were surprised at yourself, you were opening up way too easily to someone who was technically a stranger. Your heartbeat was slowing to a calmer rate, your breathing less erratic.

And you were smiling.

It felt so..  _ alien. _

He had picked up on your liking of his jokes, so he told you some others.

Your laugh was innocent.

He had told you about his job, which he was enthusiastic about. He was an on-call entertainer, and today had his most favorite gig, a children’s hospital.

“Oh, that’s so lovely!”

Your heart stopped for a flashing moment.

_ Wait. Job.. _

_ _ You felt like you had been hit by a truck. Immediately you checked your watch.

Your shift at your own job had started almost an hour and a half ago.

_ And you had left another hour earlier to do a grocery run. _

_ _ Your muscles went stiff and your heart resumed its familiar arrhythmic fluttering.

_ Hello panic, my old friend. _

_ _ “U-uh, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Oh? Okay-“

“I’m so s-sorry! I’ll find you another time. Have a day!”

You sprint off in the direction you hope brings you to your café, leaving the poor guy in the middle of nowhere.

_ Oh spare me boss, please don’t fire me.. _

————

Once again, Arthur watched as you ran away, disappearing around a street corner. And once again, he hoped that you weren’t simply running  _ from _ him.

Your scared demeanor had dropped- what had felt like hours ago, revealing a sweet soul. 

_ No one had given him this much peace of mind as you had _ .

And your laugh… it was borderline saccharine to him.

He had always told himself that, if just one person in Gotham thought he was funny, then it would be enough.

And he was right.

But your fearful state of mind was both too perplexing and painful to begin to understand.

_ You were hurting. _

_ _ That much was obvious.

“I hope you fly far away from this place,” Arthur muttered in the direction she ran, so quietly that no passerby could even notice.

You were too good for this city, and said city could not abide innocence in any form.

_ …Before it spears you down. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I’m doing lol. Things get crazy next chapter I PROMISE.
> 
> Comments make my day I’m dead serious. It helps me get better at writing and just one makes me happier than scarfing ten cupcakes.  
Criticism is much needed, my work is subpar at best.


	4. Red Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes just a breeze to cause a storm, just a breath to cause a scream, and just me to cause a tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early-ish Halloween! Here’s an extra spooky chapter, and it’s my longest yet?? (That’s not saying much tho) Whatever, grab some candy and snacks and buckle up, shit’s about to go from 0 to 100. 
> 
> *WARNING*: This chapter contains violence and mentions of suicide.

Once again, the sun had settled beneath your metal city. But you were too numb, too excited, and too terrified to even notice. The icy air bounced right off of your skin like water on feathers. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore.

The millisecond your shift was over, you burst through the establishment’s back exit, your coworkers staring blankly after your retreating form. You ran once again, your flats pounding against concrete, your rage and sad confusion giving you a newfound energy as you flew in the direction that would bring you anywhere- you didn’t care, just take you away from that  _ hell. _

_ It was so unfair. _

_ _ You felt it, the misty sting in your eyes again. And this time, you had no energy left to fight it.

_ Why did this have to be so god-damned UNFAIR? _

_ _ The thick black paste you had reapplied you your eyes hours earlier, you could tell- it was beginning to run again.

_ What’s the point of painting your face, if you just cry it all off, every time? _

_ _ Still you fled, your tattered braid and bag thumping against your spine with every stride, your gasps for air rattling with your weak sobs.

Your eyes caught sight of a patch of dark green- you must’ve been at the edge of a park of some sorts.

Cautiously, your feet slowed and you found yourself at a perimeter iron fence- without a second thought, you vaulted yourself over the meager fence, avoiding its sharp points.

In the distance, you spot a tree. A weeping willow, without foliage, but each branch is lightly dusted with frost.

Again, you sprint, but towards that beautiful tree, and your back connects with its trunk. Carefully you slide down and sit at its base, your white dress scraping against the woody roots.

_ I just… need a minute. To breath, and take everything in. _

_ _ Cold night wind rustled through the willow’s vines, a few stray droplets falling and landing in your hair. 

And beside the static noise of the city surrounding you, you felt alone.

Your tears finally began to dry, but were replaced with a scared shudder as the events of the day actually began to sink in.

You had ran so long, and so far. You ran until your flats dug into your heels, creating blisters against your Achilles that were almost larger than your fingernails. Still you ran, until you thought your heart and legs would give out. It couldn’t be helped- you had to call a taxicab. 

Despite your brutal lateness, you had felt… lifted. A small, strange sense of optimism lingered in the back of your head, that made the morning slightly easier.

_ You made a new… friend? _

_ _ Your happiness has proven finite, however. Like a candle, flickering in a windy, black void, was stomped out almost immediately.

Your manager, red-faced and shouting like she was at you, had done just that.

You had protested, insisting that you  **knew** that it wasn’t rush hour at the time you had missed, people had only been trickling in, just like they always did when you were there! It couldn’t have been so bad to have one less employee for one day?

Didn’t matter, apparently.

_ I guess my little hiccup somehow looked bad on her behalf. _

Most of her little insults had no effect on you, sure she deducted your paycheck and called you lazy.

_ Except one. _

_ _ **Incompetent.**

…… 

...You... were a model worker. You came in every day, gave the customers their orders with time to spare. You worked hard to preserve your only source of income.

But your coworkers, your manager…

_ They never noticed, never listened… did they? _

_ They only noticed when you slipped up. _

_ Only when you were… _

_ ... _ ** _Incompetent_ ** _ . _

You ran your hands over your black stained-eyes. They were trembling again.

_ It’s so unfair. _

_ ...That’s the way this world works, you stupid girl. _

_ Why? Why did the world only notice my failures? _

_ You either play your part, or you fall into the wayside. Take your pick, girl. _

_ _ You sighed, but pulled your head out of your hands to look up. Here you were, in a rain-soaked park, crying about yourself. 

_ Ridiculous. _

Your gaze was caught by something familiar. A tall, dark shrub, growing near the edge of the park.

The shrub wasn’t what caught your attention, though.

Rather, the bright, beautiful blossoms atop that seemed to almost glow in the dark.

Your legs were moving without your mind to tell them to. You stumbled towards your shrub, a slight limp from your sore heels hindering you slightly.

You ignored the little warning sign alerting people to stay away from your pretty white flowers.

_ One flower. Just one is all I need… _

_ _ If you were truly incompetent, you shouldn’t be here. They could just replace you with someone else at the cafe… someone who wouldn’t ever lose track of time like a fool.

Your impulse drive had taken over your mind entirely, your thoughts going black and your heartbeat relaxing as you went cold.

Your hands shook as you reached into the shrub and plucked a single, glowing flower.

You opened your mouth ever so slightly.

_ ...Wait. _

_ _ You halted, the toxic blossom dangerously close to touching your lips.

_ What am I doing? _

_ ...I don’t want to be alone. If I… _

_ _ No. You couldn’t do it.

_ ...How could you make your life truly mean something if you end it now? _

_ _ You didn’t want to be alone, found under a tree months later after no one tried to find you…

_ I… I need to get out of here. _

_ _ You looked down. The flower still lingered in your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to drop it.

You nestled it into your hair, next to your braid.

_ It matches my dress. _

_ _ You sigh as you walk out of the park, bounding over the fence once again.

_ That was pretty intense. _

_ _ You took a deep breath.

Your legs were in too much pain, there was no way you could get all the way home on foot. You were also way too far, it was just illogical. 

In the end, you opted for the subway. It was just quicker. So you began another limp-walk, towards the closest station.

————

Walking. You were certainly doing too much of it. You were only a few blocks from the station, your heels searing with pain as you continued. Your head was beginning to feel heavy, and so were your eyelids.

You needed a rest.

You let out a catlike yawn as you passed a telephone box-

The noise you heard was cataclysmic and deafening- an impact, and splintering glass. On instinct you shrieked, and the noise had made you jump back several feet. Your gaze flashed in every direction.

Whoever was in the phone box came bursting out- and then you saw- the glass pane on the door was destroyed.

_ Did you just—!?  _

_ _ But then you saw it’s occupant.

A man dressed as a clown.

_ ...Wait. _

_ _ You walked back up to him.

“Mister Arthur?”

He stared straight back at you with an incredulous gaze.

“It’s y-you? Why are you.. I.. I’m so sorry I didn’t see you.. here..”

“Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer, but his distraught facial expression was very telling.

_ Here goes nothing. _

_ _ Very gently (and albeit awkwardly) you place your hand on his shoulder, and inch a nanometer of a nanometer closer to him.

“Hey,” you venture again. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes looked bloodshot. Almost as if he’d been crying, but nothing ran down his face.

He almost leaned into your hand, like a cat.

“Everything.”

————

She had mentioned that she was taking the subway home. Arthur joined her.

He had told her almost everything. That moment, that attack had led one of his coworkers to give him a gun to keep for self defense. And he had accidentally dropped that same gun in front of a  _ room full of children. _ And how it had lead to him being fired.

He was afraid she would be horrified of that truth.

...But she wasn’t.

…Actually, she may have been.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m really sorry.”

She looked downward as they both stepped onto the train.

She sat right next to him, playing with her hair and staring out the window with half-closed eyes.

The attention was strange to him. This girl, what was she playing at? Why was she giving him the time of day? Was it a cruel prank, was she being bet on how close she could get to him?

The train lurched, and it began to move.

_ You were truly too good to be true. _

_ _ Nothing added up, a beautiful woman coming out of nowhere and caring enough to talk to him, to be with him?

_ This had to be… a joke. A joke on me. It had to. It had- _

_ _ There was a very soft nudge on his shoulder, and his head whipped around-

She had fallen asleep, her head and a part of her body resting lightly against him. Past his sight of you sleeping soundly, he spotted a group of men hovering around another seated woman, saying something he couldn’t pick up. His gaze returned to you.

His heart was beating erratically, and there was a sudden, familiar burn in his ribcage-

_ Oh no. Not now, please not now! You’ll wake her—! _

_ ———— _

It was deathly silent, but your dream of being buried under a pile of blankets was very soothing to you. When suddenly, there was a quiet whisper in the back of your mind-

_ “That canary.” _

_ What? _

_ _ “ _ Wake up.” _

_ _ “Who’s there?” You yell into the darkness.

No answer.

There was a sudden noise as loud as an explosion. Your body was thrown back, and you woke with a jolt of your muscles. 

Your head rose from where it was, against a stranger’s- no,  _ Arthur’s  _ shoulder. 

He was laughing again, just like that time on the bus, and the sound ran through the air of the train like gunshots.

“Nhn… Arthur…? Wh-“

You startled awake. There were three men standing around him. And one was reaching dangerously close to him.

“E-excuse me?” You began, but it became clear that you were being ignored. 

They were focused on your friend.

“What’s so funny?” One stated as he pulled away the green wig, revealing Arthur’s bright tawny-colored hair. He didn’t resist.

And in a flash, they—

-They had r-ripped him to his feet, only to strike him so hard he fell to the train’s floor.

You jumped and shrieked so loudly, your ears shook.

“What are you—!! STOP THIS!” You yelled as loud as your throat let you.

You were still ignored, as the men  _ kicked _ your friend. 

You broke.

You were sick of being ignored.

The man who had started this all, your hands found his shoulders and you pulled with all your strength. He looked to you with an annoyed glare, and he opened his mouth, probably to insult you-

But you never knew what he said, as your hand hit his face as hard as you possibly could.

The sound of the impact  _ echoed  _ throughout the train car, and the man stumbled back slightly. Your eyes widened. You were stronger than you thought.

But that second of dead silence was only in your head, as you looked over at now two men attacking Arthur, and one  _ huge _ man with a flash of red on his face where you had struck- now coming towards you.

You stepped back, but not quick enough- he drew back and-

Before you could even know what he did, your ears were ringing, and you were falling. Something warm dampened your scalp where you had hit the floor. 

Everything was quiet. The only sound was a ringing.

There was a sudden pressure on your throat, you looked to see a wicked pair of hands around your neck, squeezing. The only sound that escaped you was a tiny squeak.

Black spots edged your vision, and desperately your hands churned at his, trying to save yourself- but it was useless. You were losing your strength, hopelessly quickly. 

Your vision was fully black, and your organs felt like they were made of ice.

_ So… this is it…? _

_ I...m…… sorry…. _

_ …… _

—There was a noise. Loud and electrifying, and very unmistakable. 

An actual gunshot.

The grip on your neck was immediately removed, but you couldn’t feel any difference of pain.

And your blindness was gone. You looked up at your demon, confusion and fear wracking you-

He coughs in your face, eyes wide open in horror as something warm lands on your neck and face.

And then you see it.

A red pinprick, growing like a flower, on his shirt just below where his ribs would be.

You’re still gasping for air when you look over- to see Arthur leaning up slightly, and pointing a  _ gun  _ at the man above you. 

There’s a second shot- and it pierces his skull. He immediately collapses, onto your lower torso. 

You watch in paralyzed horror as the nightmare unfolds before you. He leans up, to shoot once again, this bullet lands directly between the second man’s eyes- felling him instantly.

You felt bile rising in your weak throat. But you simply didn’t have the strength to empty your stomach.

The third man isn’t so lucky. He jumps back, only to be shot in his foot. He was visibly panicking, slamming on the sliding doors and shouting for help.

You wriggle out from underneath the dead man, and you feel your voice returning slightly. 

Arthur walks to you, blood that wasn’t his- spotted across his makeup. 

He reaches a hand to you, presumably to pull you up- when the train door abruptly slides open, and the third man darts out, or just limps quickly out. 

Arthur’s attention diverts, and he immediately follows suit.

“Arthur, w-wait!” You call out, but your words do not reach him. He gets off, leaving you on the train with two dead men.

Your mind was a storm of panic. You stumble to your feet- thankfully your lower body was fine, but your head and neck were a different story.

There was another gunshot, and you jumped again. Rushing out of the train, you were met with another gruesome sight.

The man had fallen against the stairs, a second bloody spot further up his back growing as he struggled, and cried to get away from the pale death looming over him. He was  _ still alive. _

...And Arthur was going to change that.

“ARTHUR, WAIT!” You tried everything. You screeched with everything you had, considering your throat was most likely considerably damaged.

...He didn’t wait.

A final shot rang through the night, and the third man went silent.

You felt tears running down your face again, the fear taking a hold of your conscious.

_ If your makeup wasn’t ruined before, it certainly is now. _

_ _ But instead of running from the man you just witnessed kill  _ three _ people, you slowly inched closer.

_ STOP! NO! HE’LL KILL YOU! _

_ _ “A-Arthur?” 

He whipped around, his eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something felt different about his gaze.

**“Run.”**

One foot pivots back, unsure of where to go. You yelp slightly as the side of one of your flats chafe against your burning heel.

And suddenly, his hand grabs your wrist, tightly. You have no idea what he’s doing, but your instincts inexplicably demand that you follow him.

He yanks you by your wrist up the stairs, and you follow as best you can, considering your heel injuries. And at the top of the stairwell, he breaks into a sprint and still you follow.

And the reason he was dragging you along suddenly became painfully clear.

You were there.

_ You’re a suspect now. _

They might kill you or him if they find you.

God, you had nowhere to go. You weren’t supposed to get off of the train for many miles and you had zero clue of where you were. Icy fear gripped you as Arthur ran, and you followed.

He retreats into a small, dark building and yanks you inside- a door slamming shut and the telltale click of a lock behind you.

He leans against the door, his breathing laboring and sharp with fear. You weren’t much better. Your arms and legs were weak, and your heels were on fire.

Warmth dripped from your eyes and scalp- you brought a hand to your hairline and drew it back, a slippery iron-smelling liquid that you couldn’t see in the dark.

Your tears began to run again as the height of your situation really settled in. Your only feeling was your accelerated heartbeat, thrashing against the side of your head- and the warmth running down your face, profusely with each thrum of your heart.

_ You were either going insane, or the impacted bone was  _ ** _moving_ ** _ with the rhythm. _

_ _ Acid fought its way up your throat as a fresh wave of panic hit you again.

“Arthur,” you cried out as best your damaged voice could. “W-what do we do?!” your voice still wracked and wavering, with your strangled sobs.

No answer- only his loud, labored breathing.

_ Could you run, and flee back to your home where you could fall asleep and end this nightmare? _

_ _ No, he was blocking the only door.

And you couldn’t quite figure it out, but something…  _ else  _ was holding you in place.

_ Why won’t you run? _

_ _ Your thoughts abruptly came to a halt when you saw him moving. Immediately you backed away, your body moving backwards until it was pressed flush against the dark, cold wall.

He stepped outwards, pivoting in a smooth, continuous arc, extending his arms around himself.

You stared intently.

... _ What is he doing? _

_ _ And suddenly he swept his arms up, and over his head- in what almost looked like a ballet pose. 

The way he held his head up, arms reaching towards the sky, his movements made with such ephemeral grace that- for the time you knew this man, didn’t know he even possessed.

_ It was beautiful. _

_ _ And when he turned towards you, his gaze trained to the sk-  _ ceiling, _ you couldn’t help but notice that his soft, doe-like eyes were no longer dark- but replaced with a bright, almost hazel that blazed in the artificial city light that creeped through the windows.

_ He is beautiful. _

And still you watched, still against the cold wall as he continued his… ritual?

You weren’t sure what to call it.

But here you were, hiding, and injured in the shadows of a corner of a public bathroom, watching a blood-stained man dance  _ wonderfully  _ after having killed.

_ But he… _

_ _ Weren’t you forgetting something?

_ He saved my life. He did it… a part of it… to save my life. _

_ _ And with that revelation, your heart slowed again, and the pain in your head and neck ebbed ever so slightly.

There were two instances where you would have died today. But both times, you were stopped.

You relaxed, and so did the flow from your forehead.

_ ...Arthur… are you really a stranger to me? _

_ _ Suddenly his dance involved him lunging towards the wall that you were still pressed against, and his hand found yours.

_ Solid, unflinching, warm. Something has changed within you. _

But you followed as he carefully pulled you to his central spot, where you could see clearly into the mirror.

Black smeared downwards from around your eyes, and mingled with the beads of water that were undoubtedly your tears. A third, thick red line also ran from the upper right of your head- the fall you took. Dark spots grew around your neck where the man’s hand had attempted to snuff your life out.

Your white dress, glowing in the dark, was now splattered with darkness. 

_ Red rose petals. _

... _ But you didn’t feel any pain. _

_ _ You simply watched, unblinking, as the man with the painted face stood slightly behind you, one hand holding yours as the other stretched out to his other side.

And finally, he spoke after what had felt like hours of silence.

“...We’re beautiful… aren’t we?”

His voice was steady, and unwavering, just like his hands.

And you forgot everything. Your failures, your poisonous flowers, your neck, your head, the murders, the fact you were locked in a public bathroom with a killer…

... _ who saved you _ .

And for some blatantly irrational reason, you trusted him.

_ No, you’re not beautiful, girl. You’re incompetent and broken. He should’ve let you die. He should have. He should have. He- _

You stopped thinking. He looked back at you with an almost enthralled gaze as you looked into the mirror, a tiny smile pulled at the sides of your mouth. Your faces were way too close, you leaned against him almost like a lover would, it was probably inappropriate, but you didn’t want to move. At all.

_ I’m right where I need to be. _

_ _ He already knew your answer to his question, but you said it anyway.

A woman’s voice that did not sound a thing like yours answered him.

“...We are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well then. That just happened.
> 
> Comments are love, comments are life!  
Criticism is always welcome, Locket out!
> 
> Bad guy: *hurts reader*  
Arthur: I diagnose you with big dead


	5. Personal Umbra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths are better left in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here's a not-so plot heavy chapter with some semi-fluff to counterbalance the craziness from last chapter. And a bit of foreshadowing... and our girl may have a screw loose... but mostly fluff.  
Enjoy fam.

Her answer felt genuine.

And in his addled state of mind, Arthur believed her.

But, was that even the correct word to describe the feeling he was feeling?

He had finally saved himself. He felt as if a weight the side of a planet had been lifted from his shoulders. The fog had swept away, and he saw the world the way it truly was. 

It was broken.

In a swift flash of events, the rug had been pulled out from underneath him, forcing his hand to protect himself. And the next moment, two bodies lay unmoving on a train in the dead of a winter night.

It didn’t matter much to him. Those men had it coming to him.

Nothing mattered much to Arthur in that moment.

_ Except… well… there was someone else. _

You.

They had hurt you. Gravely. He saw it, the thick trail of red across your temple.

His original plan had been to bear the attack, and flee at the first opportunity. But seeing the tallest man, squeezing the life from your throat had sparked a blaze in him.

And the shots rang, over and over and over again.

The third man had attempted to run, and you tried to hold his attention- but he had to finish what he had started. 

Because there was no fucking way he would let any of those wretched men escape for what they had done. To him, or you.

_ How could they do something like that to someone like you? _

_ You were a good soul, you were only attacking in self defense… for him. _

Arthur slowly led you out of that dark corner, and unlocked the door, still holding onto your hand. 

_ You are so confusing, you could have run, but you helped him. _

You followed him, your tears had now stopped, and your eyes opening and closing as you yawned sleepily. You must’ve calmed down in a way, as the flow of blood seemed to have slowed, and maybe stopped.

_ Or maybe you’ve lost a lot of it already. _

Bringing you to the hospital was probably a bad idea. What, with you in your now blood-spotted dress, and he, with his soiled makeup and bloodied hands, it would only be a matter of time before the police got involved- and that was most likely less than ideal for you right now. 

_ My own home isn’t too far… _

He could bring you there, bind your wounds and let you rest until you could go on your own again.

“Hold on, okay? I’m going to get you to someplace safe.” He ventured.

He held you by your shoulder, noticing that you walked with a heavy, noticeable limp.

You yawned again, but said no words.

_ That’s it. You probably just need rest. _

————

It took them a hot minute, but soon the two fugitives were in hiding once again. 

And in what felt like a flash (but was more likely just less than half an hour), the woman was out cold on his sofa, her head injury adequately bound in gauze. You laid underneath several blankets he had collected for you, with only your head and one hand poking out.

But still, that said hand jerked violently, and your closed eyes twitched every now and then.

_ Are you cold? _

_ _ You couldn’t have been. You were under your own weight’s worth in covers.

_ What kind of nightmares are you having? _

_ _ He could imagine they were more peaceful than the reality you shared.

_ A nightmare is still a nightmare. _

_ Who am I to judge? _

_ _ Quietly, he sat next to that sofa, hoping not to wake you- but something told him doing that was near impossible right now.

Very carefully however, his hand found your exposed one- his fingers weaving through your smaller ones, like a set of gears.

And almost instantly, the trembling in your hand stopped. And your pulse, he could feel it- the erratic thumping that ran all the way to the tips of your fingers- it had noticeably slowed.

_ Your hand is... so warm. It’s… it is nice. _

He had just been about to get up and retreat to give you respite, when you stirred- your whole body shifting slightly, and your hand curls tightly around his, holding him in place.

Arthur’s heartbeat jumps.

You were technically unconscious, but the tiny gesture of affection had his mind flooded with panic and eagerness.

_ Would you still reach for me if you were aware? _

_ _ You weren’t able to answer his thoughts, of course.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave the floor next to the sofa where you slept- couldn’t bring himself to let go of you.

Something soft, and warm in his hands, not a physical threat to himself- consensual or not, it was alien. Strange.

_ Yet so, unbelievably sobering. _

_ And sweet. _

_ _ He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep.

How strange. He was usually awake almost all hours of the night.

————

When you woke again, it was dark, most likely early morning. You looked around, but only the edges of dark fabric greeted you. When you tried to shift your head and look around, your head injury objected immediately.

You felt something foreign in your right hand, and you looked over carefully. 

Arthur was holding said hand very lightly yet firmly, as he slept seated against the base of the sofa. His makeup must’ve been washed away, revealing his thin, sharp face. 

_ He looks peaceful in sleep. _

_ _ He didn’t move a muscle- save for a barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest, you’d have thought him dead.

But his hand held steadfast on yours.

You weren’t complaining.

_ It feels nice to hold someone’s hand again. _

You weren’t quite ready to get up, and that blackness of sleep claimed you once again.

————

When you woke again, you were surprised to see that he was gone.

And as you looked up and through the window, you noticed the glow of the sun shining high above the city- was it the afternoon, truly?

You tried to get up- but your back objected instantly. There was a stiffness that ran throughout your entire body, and your head still thrashed duly.

With a pained hiss through your teeth, you pulled yourself up and off the couch, stretching all four limbs like a cat. Your gaze wandered around the strange room you were in.

It was a small living room, with some clutter dispersed here and there. The sunlight filtered through the partially closed windows in yellow ribbons, and briefly you looked out, to see some small gray birds flittering past.

_ I wish I could be a bird. I wish I could fly. _

_ _ It couldn’t be helped, however.

Carefully you walked to the door that would lead to that small bathroom you had barely remembered being in last night- where Arthur had… helped with your… little head injury.

You gently opened the door, leaving you in the open space, and staring into a mirror with brutal disbelief.

The girl staring back at you  _ had  _ to have been a stranger- her hair was tousled far more than usual, eyes far darker than they were last night, and blackness laced the sides of her neck. Her skin was shockingly pale.

_ The blood… loss. Of course. _

_ _ Sure enough, the bright gauze wraps held your skull tight, preventing any more of yourself from pouring out of your head.

_ Or at least, it tried to. _

_ _ The skin beneath your bandages was somewhat damp, implying that they weren’t as tight as they should’ve been.

_ If I try to re-bind this.. _

_ _ You panicked.

_ No. I might lose more blood. _

_ _ “It’s what you should have done hours ago, you stupid girl.”

You shrieked and jumped back, staring straight at the mirror with eyes widened. 

Your reflection was glaring back at you, so brutally maliciously.

Tears pricked at the corners of your own eyes, but it just stared back with that dark stare.

“B-but I only—“ You tried, but the mirror didn’t let you finish.

“What are you doing here? Hanging with a killer, wasting your time, and wearing clothes that aren’t yours?”

That last bit was true, you supposed. Arthur had lent you some of his mother’s clean clothes to wear while your destroyed ones got fixed up, sure.

_ But why did that matter? _

_ _ “It matters because you don’t deserve any of it. You shouldn’t be accepting his hospitality, you don’t deserve it.”

Your head hung low in shame as tears ran again. The mirror was relentless. Scaringly so.

“You should’ve ran and reported that man the moment you got off the train,” It droned on with its hollow, evil eyes boring into you.

“...Please stop this,” You tried to intervene again.

“Oh, but it just takes a little hand-holding and a cute little dance in a bathroom for you to melt like a candle and trust this man, hmm? That’s fucking pathetic, even for you. Doesn’t any of this get through your head,  _ at all?” _

_ _ You simply stared.

“Your emotions are your _weakness, _you idiot. You of all people should know it. Because if you hadn’t been weak, you’d still have your—“

You knew what it was going to say- and you weren’t going to have it. You had already left the bathroom and slammed the door behind you.

The tears ran down your face in streams, as you held yourself against the closed door.

_ You were really beginning to hate mirrors. _

_ _ “Dear, is that you?”

You almost screamed again at the second voice coming from down the hall. But then you remembered-

Arthur’s mother. She rarely even left their home.

_ Did she know you were still here? Or did she know you were here at all? _

_ _ You slowly walk the hall and through the agape door.

“A-ah, miss Penny, I’m sorry, that was me..”

Miss Penny was certainly an interesting case- she didn’t look a thing at all like her son, with her grey-tinged amber colored hair and eyes the color of dust, and her features were soft and weakened with age- nothing like her son’s sharp facial structure and dark hair.

She looked right at you- and surprisingly, she wasn’t alarmed to see the face of a teary-eyed stranger in her doorway.

In fact, she smiled very lightly at you.

“Oh, Cecelia, my dear. Are you alright? How is your injury healing? You’re more than welcome to stay for a spell, here with us if you’re still unwell.”

You stopped dead at that name.

_ How… does she.. know that name? _

_ _ “A-ah well, I’m just waiting on my ...clothes, yes, my dress got a little, um, soiled last night.”

“I see,” She responds, as she leans up a bit and beckons you closer. You obey wordlessly.

“I’m glad you are a friend to my dear son. He speaks highly of you, dear.”

You stand at the foot of her bed, awkwardly fiddling with the fabric of your- no,  _ her  _ nightdress, unsure of how to respond to her undeserved praise of you.

“Joy is imperative, and fleeting, dear. I’m glad you’re helping him find his.”

You hung your head as low as you could, refusing to look into her eyes.

“Why do you cry, Cecelia?”

You glance up at her, one eyebrow cocked in confusion

“You’ve been gone for so long. Gotham needs you. Thomas needs you. Won’t you return to them?”

You sprang from the corner of the bed, where you had been kneeling. 

Your heart beat rapidly again, more out of panic than your sudden burst of movement.

“Would you like some t-tea? I’ll go make us some tea.”

“Oh? I’d love some, dear.”

Immediately you sprinted from the bedroom and into the adjacent kitchen, as you practically hyperventilated from the implications that dawned on you.

_ I can’t… she’s not.. _

_ She couldn’t possibly know about Cecelia. _

_ _ You shook your head.

_ It can’t be helped. _

_ Tea now, panic later. _

_ _ There was already a kettle on the stove, and an opened box of tea bags on the adjacent counter. You took a closer look. Green.

Your favorite. Jackpot.

You filled the kettle with water and turned the stove on. 

Next, you went to find your clothes, from the very old dryer where they had been for who knows how long. They weren’t warm anymore.

You shuffled out of miss Penny’s dress, and back into yours.

The blood speckles were still visible, slightly so. 

_ It can’t be helped, I suppose. _

_ _ You must’ve zoned out for quite a bit, because the hissing of the kettle had broken you out of your haze in what had felt like not nearly enough time for that water to boil.

And so you skittered back to the kitchen to retrieve it, pouring two mugs of the steaming water. You dropped one bag into each.

Carefully you walk back to the bedroom with one mug, and deliver it to her.

“Thank you very much, dear.”

“You’re welcome, miss Penny. Uh, now that my clothes are finished, I really should be leaving, so I’m not bothering you and Arthur anymore.”

“Oh, you were never a bother to him, dear.”

You had no idea what to say.

“But if you are leaving, please do be safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You turn to leave, but she suddenly stops you.

“Oh! Could you please do something for me?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Could you please drop this letter in the mailbox on your way out?”

She pulls an envelope from a drawer on her nightstand.

“Sure, sure.” You take it.

“Thank you, be safe!”

As you walk to the kitchen, you grab the mug of still-hot tea, fully prepared to chug it down in one go when the front door suddenly swings open right next to you.

It’s Arthur, and he’s holding a bag full of whatever.

“Are you leaving?”

“A-ah, yes?”

“Oh.” He sounds almost despondent as he sets the bag down near the door.

“Hey, I got an audition for stand-up, not far from here. Do you want to come? It’s tonight.”

You perk up a little. You wouldn’t mind seeing him a little bit onstage.

“I’ll be there.” You say as a reassuring smile graces you with its presence.

He grins back at you. “Then it’ll be worth it.”

You let out a single chuckle.

Then, very carefully, you press the full, hot mug of green tea into his hand, which he accepts with a flash of gratitude. 

Then you had to be off.

But not before you walk past, and gently lean into his shoulder and side, in a reassuring manner, brushing past almost like how a cat would lean against their favorite human. 

You could swear you felt the muscles in his unoccupied arm tense slightly, but relax.

After the door had been shut, you were unaware of the man on the other side of it, staring at that said door- staring longingly after where  _ you  _ had gone.

However, once you had reached the lobby, you were startlingly aware of your lack of Penny’s letter. 

_ Oh no, where is it? _

Then you realized.

It was in the same hand as your mug of tea.

You must’ve handed both objects to Arthur without realizing.

_ Ah, well. Arthur can just deliver it instead. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God DAMN it these turtle doves are too cute- I don't want to hurt them but canon demands it.  
(Ugh this took me so long to write I swear  
It's not that I don't want to do it anymore I'm just getting final projects and shit piled on irl- I promise I'm not abandoning this okay?)  
As usual, comments and criticism give me life!


	6. Grey Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music is in you. You just have to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote so many parts of this chapter Jesus Christ.  
Arthur’s probably way OOC here but I don’t mind anymore fam.  
Buckle up here comes the big fluff

As always, returning back home only greeted you with cold metal and wood. As the door opened and closed behind you, your home felt more like a black void, sucking you up and into a kind of perpetual limbo- the only light being that of the sun, while most nights you had preferred to spend shrouded in that darkness you were so familiar with.

_ The light is just as cold as the dark. _

Gotham was dark. Your body was cold. Frost coated anything living out in the air of the world, you knew that too well. Not too long ago you had spent many an hour sitting at the base of several different buildings, and sure enough- that film of thin snow-like ice would coat your nose and lashes.

One passerby might ask why you would do such a thing in the middle of winter.

And your answer?

Occam’s Razor, dear friend.

You simply had no strength to do anything but _ sulk. _

_ “Pass on, dear one, for I have chosen to be covered in winter whilst you continue ever onward to spring.” _

** **You made that little poem up yourself.

_ How fancy. _

The poetry was somehow lost on you, however. 

_ The winter is cold. Living things sleep, or die. Why do I still embrace it? _

_ Do you like that pain? _

You shuddered.

_ Maybe. _

_ But… for some reason.. _

_ You don’t want to be alone anymore. _

You found something warm.

_ Oh, for the love of-! You CHILD! _

You...

You missed him already.

Even though the two of you had briefly spoke before you left, it felt like ages already.

Technically, most of the day had passed you by while you slept.

But this heartache you felt.

It was completely alien to you.

You were so used to deafening silence. You were accustomed to loneliness.

_ Why all of a sudden did I long to be near this man again? _

A man you had only known for maybe a couple of days- hell, a few _ hours, _ technically speaking. 

But the way he held your hand last night… it was warm, and so unmistakably _ good. _

And suddenly, the freezing air didn’t feel soothing to you anymore.

It was _ painful. _

It was a white burn that a chilled you all the way to your weak bones.

_ What the hell is happening? _

_ Am I getting sick? Weak? _

_ Stop worrying. _

You looked into the mirror next to your coat rack.

You- yes, _ you _ glared. Not _ it _.

“Stop trying to control me.”

Your voice didn’t seem authoritative enough- you sounded like a petulant child.

You turned your back on your reflection. And you could’ve sworn-

“_ Well, that’s new.” _that voice in your skull hissed acrimoniously.

————

The first thing you noticed on the television- it was all over the news already. 

Three men were found dead in an undisclosed subway location.

The people in the city were in widespread panic.

And there were eyewitness accounts of the perpetrators.

Someone saw.

Someone heard shots.

They saw a man with the painted face of a clown.

A clown- 

And… a-

“Female, rather thin, in a white-and-red dress.” The police officer on the screen stated.

You choked on your own saliva.

“It hasn’t been confirmed which of the two did the crime, but we will be _ sure _that both of these people will see justice.”

Everything felt cold again. The blood roaring in your ears rendering you completely deafened to your shrill yelp of panic.

They don’t know who did it. 

Y-you needed to sit down. 

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and not in a pleasant way.

Your knees hit wood. But you were wholly numb- you felt no pain from impact.

???????

When you came back around, the first thing you saw was floor. You were lying in the middle of it.

_ What the HELL? _

_ Did I have a seizure? _

You felt your organs. Everything seemed to be in check. Your heart was still beating especially fast, however.

_ Fear. It’s all just fear. _

The public knew about what Arthur did. 

They just didn’t know _ who he is. _

They don’t know who _ you are. _

_ Breathe… there’s solace in that fact. _

They thought you did it too. They thought you killed.

You did not.

You had to tell him. You both were still in potential danger. 

_ Tonight. After the… yes. I will. _

————

You spent the rest of that afternoon- and into the evening- doing menial tasks, tidying up your home, and other mindless things.

And for a long time, you debated on whether or not to return to your job. You decided against it, it was too late already.

_ Go ahead and fire me. _

_ I’ll find someone else to fight over scraps with. _

The fear of what you had seen on the television had smoothly ebbed away, as the time drew closer to see your… friend again. 

Changing into some clean clothes and bundling up into a warm coat, you looked once again into your mirror.

You looked nice… presentable.

You flinched, however, preparing yourself for the barrage of insults your reflection would inevitably throw at you-

...But nothing came. Your own blank face stared back at you, almost eagerly awaiting an attack.

You relaxed.

You smiled.

The sun had set, once again on Gotham. A thought of your friend onstage, doing what he loved, softened your smile even further.

_ I can’t wait to see everyone adore you as much as I do. _

A stray thought, forming as you left your house again. You halted in confusion. 

_ What the heck? Did I really just think that? _

Your strides brought you once again along the sidewalk you had grown so familiar with over recent days.

A shake of your head as you brushed that second thought off.

_ It doesn’t matter. He is my very dear friend. Of course I adore him. _

_ … _

_ ..Even if he’s a murderer. _

————

The trip to that little club-location-whatever it was, it was mostly uneventful. 

But the streets were unusually quiet.

_ Killers on the loose. _

You shrugged it off. Pushing open the doors, you saw many people already there, watching someone else talk onstage. 

Silently you shuffled to the back and found what appeared to be a backstage area.

You were able to get in alarmingly easy.

Didn’t matter.

Your eyes immediately found him, hunched over a table and muttering to himself.

Ignoring your rationale telling you not to, you bound right up to him.

“...Hey,” you venture.

His bright gaze looks up at yours.

“Oh, hello.” His words were weak.

You knew that weak voice all too well.

“Are you… feeling nervous?” You ask.

His head hangs back downwards as he gives you no answer.

Your hand once again finds his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you assure. “Ah, this is what you love to do, right? I’m sure they’ll all love you as much as I- I mean, you have a good talent. Just remember that, ‘kay?”

_ Smoooooth, you fool. _

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to pick up on your weird comment. 

But his own hand lands on top your own, locking gently around it and he tugs it away from his shoulder.

You flinch, a brief flash of cold running down your veins. 

_ Oh god. Was that weird? He’s offended? Oh no. Oh n- _

A sudden, alien yet soft touch almost makes you yelp, and jump from your brief clouding panic. You look over-

He’s kissed the plane of your hand, just below your knuckles. Your brain almost short-circuits.

_ Oh my GOD. Act natural. Act natural. Just a hand kiss. It’s a formal thing. It’s… respect? _

Your entire face felt like it was going to burst into flames.

“G-good luck, y-yes.”

“Thanks, dove.”

His smile feels more real, this time. As he walks towards the steps that lead up and onto the stage, his hand slowly losing its grip on yours, until he slips away, and out of your grasp.

You hold that hand close to your heart as you walk back out to the front of the venue where everyone else sat.

Nestling into a free booth, you listen to the man onstage, he will announce Arthur on quickly now.

_ They’ll love you. I’m sure of it. _

Your heart beats fast just under the hand he touched, and your cheeks are still hot.

_ ...I hope. _

————

Not long after, the footsteps continued, as the two of you walked side by side through the city, and on your own ways home.

You hung your head low again, sadness gripping you.

_ Why… you were so proud of yourself… _

He told his jokes, sure, but he couldn’t… um, let’s just say he was just as shy in front of crowds as you were.

His erratic laughter still rang fresh in your memory. _ Is that a way you cope with fear? _

_ Not sure. _

You looked to him again. He was silent.

_ And not a soul laughed. Maybe some did, but it was most likely out of pity… _

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Hmm?” His cautious gaze perked up towards you. ”For what?”

“I just… that could’ve gone better, I guess. A-ah, don’t feel bad, okay?”

His face softens substantially. He smiles- not a fake one, but a soft and real smile.

“It’s alright. Like I said- you’re here, so it’s all worth it.”

Now _ that _gave you butterflies. Your sight darted in the opposite direction as your hands covered them up. Looking up, you saw the moon- full, huge, and silver… casting an abnormally bright glow over Gotham. 

You two had halted next to a large clearing of grass, too small to be a park.

His eyes widened slightly, the telltale sign of a good idea. And his grin became slightly larger.

“...What’cha thinking?” You venture.

He extends his hand to you, a smile- and a new sense of confidence growing evident on his face.

“The night’s young,” he says, voice having lost all sense of instability and weakness.

It was like a switch had been flipped, and the confident killer had returned.

He wasn’t going to kill you, however.

In fact, it was somehow stranger?

He went on. “Dance with me.”

_ What?! _

“A-a-uhh? Dance? Here?”

“Yes.”

“B-but, what about music? We have no music.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, as he takes both your hands into his own. “If I can tell jokes without people laughing, we can dance without music.”

Your panic grows as he pulls you close. “I-I can’t dance,” you blurt ungraciously.

“We’ll see about that. Just go with it.”

You did go with it. What he called a dance was mostly just him leading you in sweeps, steps, and turns that would barely qualify as a kind of waltz. Maybe… it was actually quite fun? He knew what he was doing, undoubtedly. He led you in circles, and you smiled a little, a small laugh building in your throat, coming out as a real laugh as you let go of his hands, twisting like a real dancer as your hair flew out in an arc around you, almost glittering in the glowing moonlight-

-As your foot hit something soft, and wet. Mud? You were still mid-spin, and let out a yipe as you lost your footing in the soft earth. You panicked, you were going to fall—!

But you didn’t, because Arthur had caught you. In what was arguably the most picturesque downward catch. 

Your hair flew out underneath you, as your wide-eyed gaze looked up at him, the moonlight creating what looked like a halo around him.

“Got you.”

Your heart thrashed against your bandages again. But this time, it was way too fast. 

A single, thin stream of warmth ran from the corner of your head, but his cold fingertips pressed there, wiping off that teardrop and holding his palm tight against your injured skull.

You looked up at the man holding your flow of blood still. More blood rushes to your head, in the form of furious blushing.

As he lifted you back up, your panic grew stronger.

_ Why am I doing this? _

_ What are you doing to me? _

Life was fast in Gotham. There was no grace, no forgiveness, no light. You knew that it was impossible to hold onto the things you loved.

You knew that all too well.

_ -Wait— Love?! _

Chances had to be taken when they came- because they would never return. No matter the outcome, it was better than living in confusion.

_ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! _

_ Something very stupid. _

The moon shone high over the two of you, and the moment was good enough.

You lunged for him, your hands flying past his shoulders, giving him the most awkward, tiny touch on the corner of his lips with your own.

He goes stiff for a fraction of a second. And immediately you retract, bringing your furiously shaking hands up to hide your gaze again. More panic hits you like a punch in the chest.

_ Oh god, I just assaulted him! Shit! I should probably run before he kills me- _

All your panic leaves you instantly as two alien hands hold the sides of your face. You pull away your own as you stare.

His eyes look relaxed as he _ pulls _ you back to him with alarming strength. 

He didn’t even hesitate when he touched- no, _ connected _his lips to yours again, and holds you in a lock against him.

You freeze in his arms, your heart going off like a machine gun.

But it wasn’t like this was unpleasant.

This was new.

Sure, your parents kissed you like a mother or father would, but this…

This was different.

This was slow, all-encompassing, and terrifying- yet exciting all the same.

_ It feels like I belong. _

_ It feels like I’m wanted. _

You didn’t want him to let go of you.

But he did, staring down at a wide, glassy-eyed you- that started back up at he with a face dusted rose and- a running red stream, as thick as a ruler.

Every deep breath you took rattles your body as he tries fruitlessly to hold you steady.

And just quick as it had come, the warm haze of affection radiating off of the two of you dissipated.

“I-I h-havetogo,” You murmur as you break away. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

He looks at you with concern, and one hand tries to reach for you- but you recoil instantly.

“Hey, wait, your-“

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you wail, as you turn and your retreat turns into a sprint in the direction you prayed would bring you home.

You ran as fast as you could, leaving the man abandoned once again. 

Tears from both your conflicting feelings and the growing pain from your head fell and mingled with fresh blood.

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry for pushing myself on you. _

A tiny squeak of a cry leaves your lips as you ran alone. You could still feel a phantom of his lips on yours.

_ I don’t deserve any of your kindness, or love. _

_ ... _

_ Finally. You get it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo w t f did I just write?
> 
> Slow burn? Never heard of it.  
I didn’t mean to write them this fluffy I swear... it just kinda happened.  
We’ll get back to the plot and angst next chapter, I promise.


	7. Bye-Bye Birdy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all pasts were beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving!! (Or whatever you celebrate today) Holy cow this chapter was a doozy, I’m actually on vacation right now and used a lot of plane time to refine the heck out of this chapter. Sorry it took so long! >.< Today I give you plot, backstory, a teeny bit of fluff and h e l l a angst. Sit back, scoop up some mashed potatoes, and enjoy the crazy train!

You fell asleep that night with tears still clouding your eyes.

After patching up the slice in your head that hadn’t quite closed up yet, you weren’t sure if your tears came from pain, or that crippling inward anger you seemed to have accumulated.

_ After… my little stunt. _

God above, it was so foolish. 

You’d wholeheartedly understand if he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

You should’ve listened to yourself.

You shouldn’t have _ done _that.

You tried to screw your eyes shut, staunch the flow, but it was hopeless. 

Your traitorous eyes stung again as they were flooded with the saline water that you’d acquired the taste of.

You aggressively buried yourself in the sheets of your bed, shuttling your eyes and hoping the water would stop if you slept.

————

He wasn’t having a better night than you, however.

Laughter cracked like thunder as Arthur walked alone back to his home.

It was… a little funny to him. 

Why would the two of them have such a moment, only for it to be cut short by _ you? _

_ Was this a joke after all? _

His rattling laughs were more like sharp gasps for air now, as an unfamiliar sting hit the corner of his eye.

It had been perfect.

You were with him.

He had your hand. 

He held your shaking, and your tears at bay, and you did his _ laughter. _

When he had looked into your wide eyes from above, he had never felt so at peace.

_ You… complete me. _

He didn’t have the will to say it to you.

But when you touched him, in that special way that only people in love would, it brought back that strange fire he had ignited the previous night- the one he had felt after killing those men.

You had given him something worth protecting.

Something worth killing for.

Worth dying for.

...Wait.. no.

Something worth _ living _for.

Because, of course, this life was harder to bear than death.

His hand rustled through the pocket of his coat, and his fingers found something soft.

He pulled out the white flower. 

The one that had been in your hair last night.

The edges of its bright white petals had begun to fade and wither, but it was still… radiant.

_ ...It belongs to you. _

_ But… I hope you don’t mind if I keep this. _

He held the fragile flower carefully, close to his chest.

As he walked back towards the door to his apartment, another thing rustles against his pocket. Something thin.

Confused, he reached back inside.

An envelope.

Arthur groaned as he realized what it was.

_ Damn it, I forgot to give back her letter. _

_ Or… oh. I could just deliver it for her. _

He pulled out the object, striding towards the outgoing mailbox near the front door. 

He had just been about to drop it down the chute when he stopped and saw who it was from.

_ ...Not you, but his mother? _

Even more confusing was the written recipient.

_ Thomas Wayne? _

What was his mother doing writing to Thomas Wayne, of all people?

Perplexed, Arthur pulled the envelope back and stared at it for a long moment before curiously peeling through the adhesive and opening it up.

————

You woke with a jolt that next morning, a gasp of breath escaping your throat in what sounded more like a short, sharp scream.

Trembling, you brought your hands to your head, only to pull them back slick with sweat.

_ It was just a nightmare. _

You commonly had nightmares. And they were always the same.

_ There was always darkness. And flowers. _

_ Flowers that burned your skin where you touched them. _

_ They grew and sprouted through your flesh and bones, muscle and skin burning away to reveal white, glossy bone and charred flesh, and the flowers bloomed, stems and leaves coiling around all of your nerves_ _and splintered bones. _

_ You tried to cry, but your tears burned brighter, and hotter as tiny flower buds grew in your tear ducts as well. _

_ And the more you cried, the louder your ears rang. _

_ It didn’t even sound like ringing. _

_ More like… screaming. _

_ And you were sure you could make out a small, eerie whisper among the screams. _

_ “.. Forgive us” _

_ You couldn’t take it. _

_ “Please, someone help!” You screamed as loud as your petal-blocked throat could manage. _

_ Only silence. _

_ But then a touch. _

_ A hand grabbed yours. A hand colder than ice. _

_ And immediately, the burning sensation and noise ebbed away. _

_ You looked up to see a faceless angel with wings that appeared to be soaked in black tar. _

_ And you didn’t feel pain anymore. _

_ The angel attempted to pluck away the white flowers that grew from your eyes and throat, and soon its hands were full of toxic things. _

_ You knew your flowers could hurt this creature, but your eyesight was darkening before you could tell it to drop them and escape. _

And then, you had woken the moment your sight had gone black.

The whisper replayed over and over again in your mind, and you felt another tear wet your eye as you couldn’t help but notice… the voice was _ familiar. _

_ No. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. _

_ But that voice. _

_ It- it was a familiar- _

All swirling thoughts in your mind halt as three sharp knocks come from your front door.

_ It’s morning. Who could that possibly be? _

Walking towards the door, you frantically try wiping away the tear trails with your flannel as you unlock that door with your other hand.

You opened the door, and see… the only man you didn’t mind to see.

Arthur stood at your threshold.

And for the briefest of moments, a flash of confusion clouded your mind.

_ How does he know where I live? _

Your curiosity was overruled, however. As he looked down at you with concern- your sadness most likely still visible on your face.

You were originally going to apologize to him for running off the previous night, but no words left your lips as you simply lunged for the man _ again- _ tackling him into an almost bone-crushing embrace.

A sharp exhale, and his muscles once again went stiff at your contact.

Your arms run up, and wrap against the slightly taller man’s shoulders as you arch your neck to let your head rest on his shoulder as well.

The hot mist that clouded your eyes- it unleashed itself again, as you melted against the warmth, and sturdiness of the sharp edges of bone running along his back.

And after a moment that felt more like a glacier, arms that weren’t yours coiled tightly around your own back, copying your movements and holding you immobilized against he.

And for a long time, you were trapped against him. As in, if you let go, you wouldn’t be able to get out.

He holds you tighter than you did him, increasingly so. And beneath his grasp, you could feel an ever so slight trembling coming from him.

And you really didn’t mind.

_ I just want to stay like this. _

Something as simple as a hug really did do wonders on you. Your sob-rattled breath smoothed down, and your tears stopped falling.

_ This is nice. _

When he finally let go of you and you resumed your breathing, you saw a semi-distressed look in his gaze.

Your relaxation turned to concern.

“O-oh, what’s wrong?”

You glanced over, to see something thin and papery in his grasp.

“...Can we please talk?” He said in a voice that sounded weak.

“Oh, oh, sure. W-would you like to come in? Come in, it’s freezing out here, hm.”

————

“That can’t be. This can’t be true.”

She paced around her living room as Arthur watched from her sofa, holding the steaming mug of green tea.

The stuff was… an acquired taste to say the least, but the warmth did soothe the pain in his chest and head.

_ And anything was good with your company. _

Since he’d read that letter, he’d tried to confront his mother about it, but the information she had given him was paltry… he had no idea who he needed to go to. 

It was damning.

The letter, that is.

“Thomas Wayne, I- he- you look _ nothing _like him,” she stuttered. “Did your mother really know him? It doesn’t make sense. If she knew him, she would’ve.. seen… Cecelia ...”

Her last words grew quieter and quieter as she stopped dead, eyes wide open with something akin to horror.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Who’s Cecelia?”

She snapped back to reality, with a sad gaze.

“My mother.”

Her head jerked, and hands awkwardly combed through her hair as you seemed to be re-adjusting yourself.

“Look,” she starts to say as her hands smoothen out the creases in her blouse. 

“I.. know the Waynes, a little bit. Our families were… closely affiliated in the past. It’s been a while, but I’m sure I can get you to their home and ask Thomas to speak to you in person.

“Really? You can do that?” Arthur asks in disbelief.

“Y-yeah. I know their address- we could try going today..?”

Arthur nods at you, astounded.

_ How do you know the Waynes? _

He shrugged inwardly.

_ It’s a small world, I suppose. _He dismisses his suspicions.

“I would appreciate that very much.”

————

Actually, the odds weren’t in your favor at all- this wouldn’t work. 

_ Would they really let you in? _

The scene around you turned from the compact, harsh city into the sparse, beautiful foliage and landscaping that you knew to be the wealthier housing in Gotham. 

You trembled as the two of you walked alongside the almost perfectly maintained sidewalk.

_ These trees used to enchant me as a child, but now they just… _

They felt more like enormous faceless guardsmen staring down, and judging your every step.

_ I shouldn’t have thought of this. This was a bad idea. _

You felt the familiar, rising panic as you stared down at your fast stride. 

_ Just try to get it over with, fast. Get in, have a talk, and then get the absolute hell out of- _

“Slow down!”

You jumped at Arthur’s interjection from behind you. 

Straight into an iron fence, that is.

You let out a sharp hiss as air escapes your lungs and you brace to fall into the icy cold metal.

But you don’t, because your shoulder is pushed back outward by something small, and soft- yet firm.

You look up.

It’s a young boy, on the opposite side of the fence, bracing you back up with his tiny hand.

But not just any boy.

It’s… Bruce Wayne. 

Thomas’s son.

His dark, soft eyes look up at you, with almost a sleepy look. At least you think- you can barely tell from under all his dark hair.

You gasp lightly as he looks up to you.

And just barely, his eyes widen in recognition.

“...Is that you, _?”

You smile the brightest you can.

“Hey, fluffball.”

————

_ “Bruce, dear,” Martha Wayne called to her son. “Come meet Miss Dent’s daughter.” _

_ The tiny human toddled out towards you, in that way that children do. _

_ You smiled and leaned far down to his height, held out your hand. His eyes widened and he immediately backs away with a pinkness tinging his cheeks. _

_ “Ahahawww, he’s a little shy,” your dear mother spoke up. _

_ “Say hello, Bruce!” _

_ The little boy felt defeated. He hung his head down in embarrassment as he eked out a quiet “ ‘Lo.” to you. _

_ You began to glow- figuratively. Tenting your fingers together as you spun in a tight circle and your hair flew out around your shoulders as you smiled brighter than the sun at the little boy. _

_ Your theatrics were probably overwhelming, but you were simply being the icon your parents knew you could be. _

_ An icon of goodness. _

_ “It’s so nice to meet you both, Miss Martha and Bruce!~” you spoke in your birdsong of a voice. _

_ The ladies chuckled heartily as Bruce shyly peeked up at you with a face so red you thought it would burst into flames. _

————

_ “Hurry up, Bruce! You’re too slow! The lava’s gonna get’cha!” _

_ “Uuaah, but, but Birdy, we aren’t s’posed to climb the trees! Alfred said so!” _

_ The aforementioned Birdy had already scurried to a curve in the huge apple tree’s branches, legs dangling over her small friend. _

_ “Come on, you fluff… ball! Ball of fluff!” _

_ “I AM NOT!” _

_ “Then come fly with me, silly!” _

_ “Young master Bruce, are you out here?” _

_ A different voice rang through the orchard and Birdy went stiff with panic as a mister Alfred walked to the center of the clearing, looking intently at the tiny boy- and the larger girl who dropped sheepishly from the thick foliage of the tree, a large red apple wedged in her teeth. _

_ Alfred let out an exasperated sigh. “Miss _, how many times have I said to stay out of the trees? _

_ She didn’t look him in the eye, both slightly ashamed and busy chewing noisily on apple meat. “Alota. But ash’ where the good applesh are!” _

_ “It cannot be helped, I suppose. But goodness, you two are filthy! Did you swim through the pond, or something else?” _

_ That may have been true. The two children were dusted with dirt, while bark and grass fronds were tangled in the girl’s hair. Bruce’s pant legs were soaked in mud, and one elbow was scraped. _

_ Alfred sighed again. “Come on. Both of you need a good cleaning up. Miss Cecelia will be back soon from Thomas’ meeting to collect you, young Miss.” _

_ The two children skittered after the butler- well, she technically wasn’t a child, but you stuck with your parents all the same. _

_ You didn’t mind. You loved them both very dearly. _

————

...That was almost eight years ago. And you wished more than anything, that Bruce didn’t have to see you like this.

He expected Birdy, but she- with her glowing hair, boundless joy, and a smile that put the sun to shame-

She was _ gone _.

And what was left.. 

A hollow, lifeless shell of what you once were. A pathetic, torn up little girl who jumped and shuddered at loud noises.

_ Sorry, buddy. I’m here, but not really. _

You felt a single, hot stream running down the path of your face again. 

_ Inevitable. _

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn slowly to see Arthur looking back with that concern he seemed to reserve specifically for you.

And then, you remembered why you were here in the first place. You panned your gaze back to the gate.

“Bruce, a-ah, look, my friend here needs to speak to your f-“

“Young master, what’s going on over there?”

Another approaching voice, a painfully familiar one. _ Oh, no. _

Alfred walks into your view, with a deadpan state that feels almost hostile.

“Miss _. You have no business here.”

“Alfred, please. This is so important. Let us talk to Thomas, then I’ll never bother any of you again.”

“You should not be bringing strangers here.”

“Please! His mother… she-“

“You should leave, Miss _. If you must, Thomas will be at the charity gala tomorrow night. You can speak to him there, yourself- if you’re invited.”

Your gaze darkens. This couldn’t have been the same kind man who scolded a young you for stealing oranges. 

“I was, as a matter of fact.” You say, in a single breath. You did have an invite, sitting unopened on your dining table- that you had planned on throwing away.

Your feet turn you around, and you get one last look at Bruce- he looked at you with an almost despondent touch in his eyes.

Arthur is still at the gate, however, talking to Alfred. You’re slightly too far away to hear.

But suddenly there’s a loud clang, and you whip around, and see Arthur with his hands on the bars, Alfred and the boy having backed far away. You race to his side.

“Arthur, Arthur! Let’s go.” You speak again, panic rising in your voice.

He’s glaring daggers at the man, but lets go of the fence and turns away. You stand alongside him. 

You can feel two sets of eyes boring into your skull as you walk away, one slightly softer than the other. You let out a tired sigh.

_ Well, that certainly could’ve gone better. _

————

You had decided to walk with him back to his home, and then back to your own. A day with a pile of questions left unanswered had put the both of you into a dour mood.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I can get you into that gala, I think, and you can finally talk to him.” You say as you bump his shoulder lightly with your own. He flashes another small look of gratitude at you.

“Just trust me, okay?” You continue.

He looks down. “I do.” He says quietly.

The walk wasn’t much longer, back to his apartment, but the sound of sirens was quickly growing painful to your ears. And it was growing louder, with every step.

_ Something’s certainly wrong. _

A sudden sense of panic hit you as you noticed the sirens and ambulance were seemingly in front of Arthur’s apartment building.

He was walking faster. You too picked up your pace, and the noise cleared to show responders pulling someone out on a stretcher.

Your heart stops when you see who it is.

“Miss Penny!? I- Arthur, your mother-!” You shout, as you sprint towards her side.

Arthur was already there before you, confusion wrought across his poor face.

_ Nothing but bad things. I.. oh, Arthur.. _

Your ears rang as the ambulance rang louder.

They brought her in the back, and he followed. You watched, until you were sure they were safe- and you stepped away as they began to close the door-

Only for Arthur’s hand to shoot out, and grab yours, fast as a snake striking.

“Please don’t leave. Not now.”

You were going to cry again. But you didn’t.

“Arthur, it’s okay. I don’t want to crowd the paramedics. Just go, I’ll find you two later. I promise.”

He doesn’t want to let you go, that much is obvious from his face. After a long silence cut by a responder urging him to let go so they can leave, he reluctantly lets go of your hand, staring at you as the doors close in your faces.

The ambulance hurtles away, and you’re left in the middle of the street in front of his building- blood roaring in your ears as your heart broke for this poor man again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya yeet this chapter was such a problem child, let me know what you thought of it! (Is Arthur getting too soft?? Idk???) God I hope I didn’t screw up the timeline asdfcrvidjxkkk  
See y’all next time!


	8. I Started a Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started to cry, which started the world laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I’m soooo sorry for the AWFUL delay on this chapter yo. Whatever. It’s here now, yay, I guess?
> 
> Ow this chapter hurts

Heavy clouds hung over the twilit city and the sky seemed to watch as your feed pounded on sidewalk as you sprinted back home. You tried weaving around other people that blocked the way, but they still object rather loudly as you jet past. 

You slowed to a halt as you stop at a crosswalk, a few others waiting for the light to turn silver. Nestling your hands into the pockets of your coat and curling your head downwards, you wait nervously as you hide from the cold.

“..That’s bloody terrifying.”

You look around. Who was that?

“Yeah, yeah! Did you hear one of them almost gut a cop? Bastard had a damn machete on himself or something.”

You peer over a tall man’s shoulder to see him, and another stranger hunched over an open newspaper.

“Shit’s getting crazy real fast- if it weren’t for the murders the other night, none of these riots would’ve happened. At least, not yet.”

You got a quick glance at the pictures on the paper, and sure enough- pictures of fights, police officers, battered as they were, holding back people in..  _ clown masks. _

And…

Wait.

In the front, there, a woman cloaked in a white dress, also wearing what appeared to be a pearlescent masquerade mask. She held several long, leafy red roses

And then, it clicked.

_ Is that… supposed to be me? _

_ No.. please, I did nothing. _

_ _ It made no sense to you. What was it supposed to mean, did they not put two and two together? Just because you were there, didn’t make you the  _ perpetrator! _

You shook your head, defeated. There was nothing you could do.

Symbols rise, and intentions corrupt away.

“Who do you think started it this time?”

“Eh, probably some girl wrongfully idolizing the Angel.”

It took a few moments to register that the ‘Angel’ they were speculating about was most likely,  _ you _ .

You made a bad decision. You butt in.

“Th-the Angel did nothing wrong.”

They both tilt their gazes up from the paper, and direct them at you.

You almost can’t bear to look at them in their eyes.

“How can you be so sure about that, kid?”

The breath dies in your throat, the only sound forming a squeaky rasp. You almost took off in a sprint at the sight of the silver walking symbol.

Something told you that would be a bad idea, however. So you stayed put.

“Just a hunch, a-ah, yeah.” You tried to speak as firm as possible, but your voice still came out timid and unsure.

_ Like you had a secret to hide. _

_ _ They looked at you weirdly, but thankfully, their attention turned back to the paper as you walked. Well, you ran-walked. All the way back to- yes, you guessed it- your house.

————

Your keys clink into the porcelain bowl as the door closes and locks, and you stop at your coat rack, chest heaving as you catch your breath.

Your back touches the wooden surface of your wooden bureau and rack, as reality began to set in once again.

Arthur’s mother… what happened to her? Your mind yowled for you to fly out the door once again, and help that poor man and his mother. God knows how much company they must need right now.

You turn back to the door, your hand reaching for the handle.

But just before you touch it- you halt.

You can feel the icy cold of the metal radiating up and ghosting across your sensitive skin.

You could stay.

Take your shoes off, brush your teeth, and fall asleep.

And in the morning, you could forget entirely about this… strange man you seem to be so endeared by.

Truly, your relationship with Arthur was more confusing than a solid white puzzle.

He… wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream man. Certainly, not your childhood self’s. 

When you were younger and far more immature, you had dreamed of marrying a beautiful, noble (yet somewhat mysterious) gentleman that you could travel the world with, and maybe find a new place to live outside of Gotham.

Yet, that man didn’t exist… or you were just too weak to search for him.

And the one you found.. well..

_ He was nothing like that. _

_ _ He was small, thin and bedraggled- the girls way back at your university years ago would probably run away screaming at the sight of him. And he most likely only had enough money to pay someone else to leave the city for him.

Your thoughts suddenly stopped.

_ This is terrible think. _

_ _ Your forehead hit wood.

_ It wasn’t the person I found for myself, but the one I found myself alongside. _

_ _ A sudden, loud thump on the side of the wall you lay against made you snap out of your pondering.

You stared at the closed door. It almost seemed to stare back at you.

_ You could stay here. And forget all of this happened at all. Return to your job and continue your path into- _

_ _ Into what? 

Nothing?

Because that’s sure as hell what waited for you in your bedroom. In your city. 

In your  _ head _ .

_ But isn’t that more savvy than hanging out with a criminal? Someone you saw murder three people? _

_ _ You looked into the mirror next to your bureau. The reflection stared back, with a borderline confused and incredulous expression. It scowled darkly at your own sad, confused gaze.

“You’re not real.”

_ Am I? _

_ _ You look away, too ashamed to answer.

_ I’m as real as you let me be, girl. _

You couldn’t reply to that, either.

_ Don’t you ever wonder why I’m here? _

“..No.”

_ Do you not know, or are you just in denial of the truth? _

_ _ …

_ Election Day got you so fucked in the head, that you started talking to your own reflection. _

_ _ You couldn't bear to listen to it anymore- you grabbed the keys back out from the little bowl you had dropped them in, and then pulled your softest winter coat out of the bureau. Shuffling it on as quick as possible, you sprinted from your home and slammed the door behind you, locking it just as quickly. 

You leaned against the closed door, your accelerated heartbeat already beginning to slow. But- damn it- the water fell from your eyes as you felt a pounding headache beginning to grow from the right corner of your temple.

Running your hand along the sore spot, you only felt your clean bandage work to greet you. Taking them off was most likely a bad idea. What if the wound was still open? You’d have to bear leaving it alone.

_ Your head wouldn’t have been cracked open if you had never met him. _

You shake your head, trying to be rid of the parasitic voice.

But of course, it was absolutely right.

_ But.. if I hadn’t met him.. I would’ve been alone in the cold. _

Your hand clutches at your chest, as your heartbeat picks up in speed again. 

_ He makes me feel… warm. _

_ _ He made you feel a certain emotion you hadn’t felt in almost five years. A kind of emotion that makes fear and grief go away.

One reserved for the people who are dearest to you.

_ I think… I’m… is this love? _

_ No. You’re not. You can’t. You’d rather be alone. People are terrible. They hurt everything, and everyone around them. You’re so used to the cold, unfeeling silence, opening up to someone will be your doom. _

You tried covering your ears. There was a ringing, but it somehow seemed to drown out the voice in your subconscious. 

_ That can’t be true. It can’t be. _

_ _ Carefully, you walked the wet stone path leading out of your small front yard and to the main street. It must’ve been close to midnight, the moon hung high over the city still, somehow now unobstructed by clouds.

At the edge of the fences lining your property, you saw the tall, dark shrubs once more. And out the sides, your white flowers glowed ever so proudly in the dark. 

You hummed quietly as you strode towards the shrub, plucking a few of the flowers with their thin, blade-like leaves still attached. 

The sap of the plant singed your cuticles with its fatal toxin, but you didn’t care. 

What you did care about was the soothing of your heart rate and the slight fogginess of your mind, blocking out the noise.

_ I’ll take my chances. _

————

He had no idea what to do.

Sitting there next to the hospital bed with his unmoving mother, Arthur stared at the tiled floor with an icy cold feeling in his chest.

_ What happened? _

The doctors didn’t tell him much. Just that it didn’t look good. 

_ And she had never given him the truth about Thomas. _

_ _ Why couldn’t she just answer him? She refused.

And all that time, and searching he had done with you, it had been fruitless. 

You…

Arthur wished you were here at this moment. So badly, his chest felt like it was being crushed. 

He could feel it- his weak, slow heartbeat, each pulse like a hammer strike from the inside. Sometimes, the only way it would quicken back to a normal, non-painful pace was if he…  _ laughed. _

He didn’t have to when you were near, however.

You fixed that for him.

At least, he hoped you did.

You were just… so  _ tranquil,  _ so uncanny in your goodness and light, so unlike this city.

And your eyes…

Arthur could’ve sworn the universe stopped every time your gaze met his.

He still couldn’t, for the life of himself, understand why someone like you spared more than a glance to him.

But it wasn’t as if he was about to push you away.

In fact, he wanted to pull you in close. 

Your flower, the only reminder of you he had at night- he held it close as if you had forgotten him, and it was all he had left of you.

Because it very well might be.

The sound of running footsteps down the adjacent corridor almost broke him out of his hazy, panicked thoughts. He would’ve completely ignored them if they hadn’t stopped at his door and opened it. He looked up, expecting a nurse-

But was slightly taken aback, yet elated to see you.

Your hair looked mussed from running, but he saw fresh, bright white flowers nestled into your locks that had not been there when he had seen you earlier in the night.

Your wide-eyed, tired gaze looked directly into his as shaking hands brushed stray strands away from your eyes.

Your amazing eyes.

Arthur’s heart was beating faster already.

“H-hey,” you stutter very slightly. “How’s your, a-ah, mother?”

“I don’t know.” Was all he could say.

You didn’t reply, but slowly walked to his side, where he sat on the folding chair next to his mother’s bed. You sat down on the next one over.

The two of you sat there for a long moment, no conversation sparking. The people on the wall mounted television droned away.

_ Now that you were here, he had no idea what to say that wouldn’t potentially scare you off. _

_ _ “Are you-“ He began, when he noticed your gaze, suddenly transfixed on said television.

“Look, A-Arthur! Mister Murray’s on!” You had a sudden optimism laced in your voice.

His own gaze shot to the screen, just like yours had. Sure enough, that was him!

“...Everyone thinks they can do  _ my  _ job, check this guy out!”

The camera cut to a filming of himself.

Wait. What? Murray knew of him!?

An exciting nudging on his shoulder. “Arthur, Arthur, look!” You sounded so happy. 

Everything was melting onto him. Murray seeing him, your joyful whispers, Arthur smiled wide as he saw himself on the screen. A real smile.

_ “When I was a little boy, and told people that I was going to be a comedian, everyone laughed at me.” _

_ _ He felt a soft nudge as you head butted him on the neck with a tiny giggle.

“ _ Well, no one’s laughing now. _ ”

**And it shattered.**

“ _ You can say that again, pal. _ ”

There was a deathly silence. Arthur’s body went stiff and cold as the smile died from his lips.

There was laughter, sure, but they weren’t laughing  _ with  _ him.

They laughed  _ at  _ him.

You had about the same reaction. 

“I- Oh, m-my God, Arthur, I-I’m so sorry. So sorry,”

You had a hand over your mouth as you reached over the bed, turning the box off. You looked at him with misty eyes.

His heart was slowing again, as his stark gaze looked back down to the floor. 

It wasn’t a hammer any more.

It was a knife.

Something warm wraps tightly around him, and he looks up to see it’s your embrace. Shaking, yet strong.

“I’m sorry.”

He feels nothing.

Your chest rattles with a single, sharp breath- he looks down to see water running from your eyes as you look back up at him.

“I’ll b-be right here.”

And you were.

Numbly, he sat back down on the chair as you returned to the one next to his own. You snuggled up like a cat on the chair with your upper body resting in his lap. You looked up at him for a while, but you fell asleep relatively quick.

He would’ve normally been over the moon to have you asleep in his arms. To see the flowers in your pale hair slipping ever so slightly from their rightful place. To gently run his hand over your face that was starved of touch.

But now…

There was only a pain. 

He felt it. The laughter. Growing in his throat.

But he would not ever wake you.

His teeth grated against each other as his muscles went stiff, giving everything he had to not burst into gales of laughter.

And in the silence, a drop of glittering water landed squarely on your cheek.

Water that wasn’t yours, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouchy.   
Things only go downhill from here, folks.  
Criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> Also, I’ve been thinking about writing a lil’ Christmas-y one-shot side story for these two, definitely sweeter than where this canon’s going... if you guys want that, let me know. ;) Locket out.


	9. Creatures Such as We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every step only digs yourself deeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sorry if I disappointed y'all with the delay here, real world got in the way- things be like that sometimes. Also holy shit this chapter is wack. Not like 'It's bad' wack, but like 'holy shit don't drown in this emotional plot tsunami' wack.  
(Also this chapter has two teeny-tiny moments that are kinda suggestive, but you have to squint to see em soooo)  
\--ENOUGH RAMBLING, now we read.

When Arthur woke the next morning, you were nowhere to be found. He was almost convinced seeing you last night was just another fever dream. 

A  _ lighthearted  _ one, at least.

However, his mother still unresponsive on the hospital bed, confirmed that those events were all very much real.

_ He was so afraid. Considering how harsh he had been on her when seeking the truth, and not being there for her when she needed him most. _

He couldn’t help her.

But she couldn't help him. He needed answers.

You had tried to help, somewhat.

Actually, that was cruel of him to think. He wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near Thomas Wayne without you… true, you both had been shooed away at the front gate, but it was a  _ start,  _ he supposed.

It truly was a small world. How did you know the Wayne family?

And more curiously, why did the man behind the gate seem to dislike you?

How could anyone hate  _ you? _

He could understand why people hated himself, but not someone like you.

You didn’t deserve to be hated. 

_ _ When Arthur tried getting up from that chair, his legs still asleep and painfully cramped- a flash of white caught his eye from the small bedside table. 

_ _ It was a whole pile of those white flowers that were in your hair last night, and on top of it, a small folded piece of paper. The paper, white as it was, still looked like darkness in comparison to those flowers.

He had no idea why you liked those flowers so much, if it was sentiment, symbolism, or something else- but he wasn’t one to complain. They were  _ your  _ flowers, and they were as beautiful as their bearer. 

Arthur dug the original flower out of his coat pocket- it looked faded and browning around the edges, but still as bright as the newer ones.

That flower was important to him, as foolish as it was to admit. It was a constant reminder that your presence was more than a fever dream. That you were real, that you were really next to him, talking to him, making him feel less alone. His skin burned where the petals touched it, but he couldn’t care less about it.

Every time he looked at it, he saw your face in his mind, your eyes, your shy smile, your weak, trembling stature…

And every time, the hand holding the flower grew strained as the other grew overwhelmingly restless… 

...He forced his mind to stop, mostly because of the horror this would most likely invoke in you if you knew. 

He picked up the paper, unfolding it to see a message written in a surprisingly graceful calligraphy that was almost hard to read.

_ Meet me this evening at my home. We’ll get your answers. I promise. ~Dove _

_ _ He sighed, a strangely painful feeling rising in his chest. 

_ Oh, what did I ever do to deserve your kindness? _

_ _ He hung his head as he pocketed the note and the flower once again.

Nothing. He did nothing. He didn’t deserve you, this was only a mere stroke of chance that brought you to him- a person like you in Gotham was rarer than a black sheep. 

And why would someone, as rare as you, give so much time to someone like him? Care so much about him? Why? What was the catch to this deal?

He felt the unending confusion in his mind manifesting as the only outlet he knew- his heartbeat quickened as he began to chuckle. He stared down at his mother, who was still unresponsive. 

_ I’m going home, alright? _

_ _ His gaze was captured by the flowers still left on the table next to the bed. He hesitated- before scooping up every single one of them. They were small, and easily carried, but he was careful- they were as fragile as their human counterpart, after all.

A passing nurse stared at the giggling man carrying something bright white- but she paid it no mind. She wasn’t paid enough to deal with some escaped freak.

————

You sneezed as your powdered rouge flew into your nose- your hands were always trembling at the absolute worst times. It looked good enough, now onto your mascara. You brushed your lashes until they were thick with that black paint-like stuff.

You hated having something so close to your eyes- hell, you gave up makeup years ago- but you were going to a formal event. You needed to look your best, to keep up appearances and to maintain a sense of decorum. Something you didn't know you had. Bottom line, you had to act, and  _ appear  _ civilized. Or, whatever the world  _ thought  _ made a person civilized.

You grabbed a small red lipstick, and applied it to your lips until it was even and smooth. You gave the air a little kiss.

_ All done. _

You took a step back to admire your dress-up work.

The thing looking back at you was more like a doll. Your skin was entirely painted to hide all the blemishes, your cheeks lightly dusted a rosy color. Your eyes, wide and framed by your thick, long lashes, now much darker than before thanks to the mascara- and your lips were painted a gentle red. You looked nice, very presentable. You smiled a little, as you smoothed out the dress you wore- your mother’s beautiful yellow swing dress. It was almost like she was with you when you wore it. 

Backing up to look at the mirror once again, you fluffed down your hair a bit more, holding down a few stray strands with some pins. 

The wound near your hairline, you had scrubbed away all the dried blood until the only reminder was an ugly, half closed scar- that was easily covered up with the concealer, thankfully.

_ Now, the final touch.. _

Slowly, you let your mouth fold into a small, soft smile. Not too much… that’s creepy. Just enough to make yourself look amicable. 

But, of course, the other half of you  _ wasn’t. _

_ “What are you doing this for?” _

You look up at darkness, your old friend.

“Huh, it feels like it’s been ages since we last spoke.”

_ “Your voice is changing, your heart as well. It sounds steadier than before. Stronger.” _

_ _ “Are you… sure about that?” You ask, as your hands fluff down any excess powder.

_ “No one knows you better than I do, fool. Still, my question stands. Why are you doing this?” _

“You know d-damn well why,” the stutter was returning to your voice. “Don’t you know how much he deserves to know the truth about his parents?”

“ _ And what about you?” _

_ _ “..What?” Your head tilts slightly in confusion.

_ “When are you going to accept the truth about your OWN mother?” _

_ _ You look away, mortified.

_ “Don’t you think it’s strange that a weak, pathetic girl is so lonely and deranged that she talks to her own reflection? I’m not real. This is all in your stupid head. You need to accept the reality of the situation and move on.” _

_ _ “I-I-I’m not ready for that, n-no.” The stutter was back. “I don’t want t-to talk to you anymore.”

_ “As you wish.”  _ The reflection hissed a final time.

You took a deep breath- which turned into a gasp when you heard a knocking at your front door. The sunset rays filtered in through the windows, and your anxiety returned in a flash.

_ I can’t do this. I look ridiculous. I don’t want to be seen like this.  _

_ _ Your wrists began to shake again as you reach for the handle and reluctantly pull the door open. 

And just like you had figured it would happen, your strange friend at the door raised both eyebrows at the sight of you. It was too much- your hands rise to hide your face from his view.

“N-not a s-sss-single word.”

“But you look great,” He says, breathlessly.

You thought your face would burst from how much blood was there. “Oh, s-ss-stop,” you say, as you try to shake the embarrassment from your head. “C’mon,” you say, “Don’t want to be late.”

————

There was a terrible commotion outside the community center, so many people trying to get in. You may have had an inkling of an idea why, however.

_ If Thomas Wayne is here, then it’s mostly self-explanatory. _

_ _ There were people in clown masks, so many of them, that their voices, you couldn't even decipher, it was all just a terrible cacophonous cloud of yells about- him, you supposed.

Arthur seemed content about the whole thing.

Why?

_ This chaos stemmed from him, don’t you remember? People lash back at the rich for taking from them, because someone else finally had the guts to try. _

_ _ It still made no sense to you. Arthur was not the type of person to create chaos like this. 

You scanned the building, when a small, somewhat hidden corridor off to the side caught your eye.

You grabbed him by the shoulder, directing him towards it.

“See that door, yeah?” You whisper to him. “It might lead to a maintenance area where you can get in. Find something to wear that will make you fit in, and I’ll meet you inside. This is the only way, okay? Please trust me.”

He nods, but his brow folds in confusion. “How do you.. know that?” He mutters back.

“I-I, uh, I’ve been here before. Long story. Later.” You stammer, but your voice must raise higher to be heard over the crowd.

One more nod, and with a touch on your shoulder- he disappears entirely into the mass of people.

Grabbing your skirt, you carefully walk to the mass of more wealthy people waiting to get in- you pull the invitation from your bag, and the cops holding the mass back look you down quickly, and then they let you through, but you have to squeeze by- the mob is raring to get in.

_ Lord above,  _ you think to yourself, as the shakes in your arms return. 

_ Why do I feel like I just walked us both into a lion’s den? _

————

A lion’s den, it was.

All these people, in their expensive suits and dresses, laughing mindlessly at a film of a dancing man- one that you had never seen.

You sat in an auditorium laced with more finery and money’s worth than you had ever seen in your life. Silk and silver, crystal and velvet. 

_ Why did they need all of this? _

_ _ They could be using the money from all this to fix Gotham. To help the people, but they’re not.

_ They could help you, but they’re not doing so. _

_ ….Only your mother ever tried to help you. _

_ _ Only your mother’s promises held true weight.

You were seated next to some strangers, just a row or two below Wayne. Not bad.

You had to keep him in your sight. 

A sudden funny skating trick in the film caused the crowd to give a sudden light wave of laughter. And among the cacophony of noise, you heard a familiar laughter. Shrill, short, and loud. Slowly you turn, to see your Arthur. You breathe a sigh of relief- he got in with ease. A brief scan over his facial features shows no injuries.

He’s dressed in a brilliant crimson suit- you’re amazed at how quickly he found the thing. 

You can’t help but notice how beautiful the deep red looks on him.

His line of sight meets yours, and he makes his way to you. 

A hand touches your shoulder, moving slowly up your throat, and to your face. A sudden icy chill drags along the trail of where his hand touches, and you go rigid underneath it. 

It’s so strange- no one’s ever touched you like that before. It feels searing hot against the chill, and kind of… intimate?

And it feels so, so embarrassing. 

But you just realized- no, you actually might  _ like  _ it.

You lean into the touch ever so slightly as you mouth a ‘hey’ to him- and your arm lazily raises, pointing to Wayne.

And right as you see him again, he is getting up from his seat, and moving away and out of his small box row. You nudge Arthur, grabbing the hand on your face to get his attention.

He looks in the direction you two focused on, and gives you a single nod.

Arthur begins to move, 

_ He’s going somewhere… this may be your only chance. _

You stand up- putting one arm on his shoulder, you get close enough so that no one else can hear.

“Please… whatever you do, just be careful,”

His hand swipes across your face and into your hair in an almost assuring manner. And before he retracts, it feels like he’s nestling something in your hair. 

And just like that- he’s gone, in pursuit of answers. 

Wayne’s gone too, so all you have to do now is wait.

You look back to the screen, and it’s the same thing- mindless entertainment that the crowd laughs at mindlessly. 

For just a few minutes that felt like hours- hell, it may have only been less than a minute- you felt it- a creeping darkness, starting small, than growing stronger- moving like an icy cold snake- slowly coiling up around your back.

Something was going wrong. You had that  _ feeling. _ You could’ve ignored it, but it was one of those things that simply couldn’t be.

So, very quietly as to not disturb the others, you rose, holding your bag- and shuffled back to the aisle. You were already sitting on the end, so it was easy. But as soon as your foot hit the stair, you took off in the quietest sprint you could manage. Which was easy- you were wearing your flats.

As you burst out of the theater, your blood chilled at the muffled, somewhat faraway sound of the deranged, angry mob. You took a deep breath, when you heard a commotion that seemed to be coming from the men’s restroom. Your breathing stopped dead.

_ They had to be in there. _

As you walked towards that little open corridor, you briefly stopped yourself.

_ That’s the men’s restroom. You can’t go in there! _

_ But what if he needs my help? _

_ He DOESN’T!  _

_ _ You hear him laughing, and your concern spikes- you know something’s wrong. You lean against the wall- only to hear the arguing. You peer into the restroom- 

Only to see Arthur getting struck hard in the face by Thomas.

Terror grips you, and manifests into a silent scream.

“Touch my son again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” Wayne growls, and his voice grows slightly louder- he is approaching you. 

Panicking, you leap into the restroom, cutting off his exit. He halts, one annoyed eyebrow raised.

“You lost, ma’am?

And just like that, your nerve was gone. Clearing your throat, you tried your best to talk. 

“H-h-ow could you ha-arm him like t-that? I only b-brought him here to see y-you!” You tried your best to remain composure, but you were falling apart fast. 

“You  _ brought  _ that bastard here? What the fuck is wrong with you? Those people don’t even get in! How did you even-” He halts, confusion marring his features.

“Wait.” he says, and you listen, still as a trembling statue.

“You’re Cecelia’s girl, aren’t you?”

Something in you relaxed, maybe he could see reason from someone he knew if you explained everything to him. Maybe you could fix relations with the Wayne family, get a good source of income flowing again-

You _ were not  _ prepared for what he said next.

“You’re a  _ disgrace  _ to your mother,” he hisses. “After everything she did for you, what did you give her back? What did you give the city back?  _ Nothing _ . And now you carry in these  _ parasites _ that don’t belong here? Cecelia would be ashamed,  _ if she was still alive.” _

A chain around your mind snapped. You were done being weak.

The fear had dissolved, replaced with white hot rage. You didn’t even feel as one hand slapped his face as hard as it could- you had lost control of your  _ hands. _

_ _ And so too, had you lost control of your voice.

“HOW  _ DARE  _ YOU TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT, YOU SON OF A  ** _BITCH!”_ **

Your inner self jumped back- you had no idea your voice could get that loud.

“I brought this man here for ONE. THING. And you’re just so damn HIGH and MIGHTY that you can’t have common DECENCY towards someone other than  _ yourself _ ? How could you be so  _ cruel? How could you drag my MOTHER INTO THIS? _ ”

_ _ Fast as a striking snake, your hand shoots to Arthur’s jacket pocket- where you know he holds his pistol. 

And just as quickly, you pivot back around and point it directly at Thomas’s forehead- both men jumping back.

Wayne’s pinned against the divider and the wall, you have him cornered. The only sound is the screeching in your ears and the pounding of molten blood in your veins, the sound similar to metal clashing together.

The… other voice goes off like a gunshot-

_ _ ** _ DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT HE KNOWS HE KNOWS HE DID IT- HE DISRESPECTS HER_ **

But… you can’t do it. 

The inferno in your mind had fizzled out just as quickly as it had come- the hand holding the pistol trembled more violently than it ever had before.

You don’t know why you couldn’t do it. Maybe because of your fluffball, Bruce… even Martha had been somewhat nice to you when you knew them, but mostly you couldn’t imagine taking Bruce’s father from him… cruel as he may be.

And when you looked into those eyes, you saw your own fear mirrored on Wayne’s clouded, unfeeling ones.

_ _ You threw the pistol down as hard as you could.

_ Curse my stupid fucking bleeding heart. _

_ _ You looked to Arthur one last time- he stared at you with eyes wide. He strode towards you, hand outstretched, but you shot back immediately, despair, anger and hot mist shrouding your splintering grip on reality.

You heard a voice yelling your name, but you didn’t acknowledge. You ran from that building as fast as possible, holding your skirts and bag as the make-up you spent so long making perfect- was ruined in seconds.

It was gone.

And for the first time, you cried for yourself. The chaos of the crowd drained away as you continued your retreat, and was replaced with your pitiful howls.

Something fell out of your hair as you ran, but you did not stop to retrieve it.

You knew it all along.

You had just tried to live in sweet denial.

From the truth of your poor mother.

Tried to lie to yourself, that she was just on a long business trip, couldn’t return to see you…

...ever.

Even tried imagining her on the radio…pretending to hear her telephone calls… 

Toxic white lies, all of it. 

It takes a strong person to recover from such a tragedy- And you were not strong.

Not strong enough to bear Cecelia being taken from the Earth, from her daughter, far too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the cat I was struggling to keep in a bag finally escaped. Plot twist, I guess...??  
(Also I unofficially nicknamed reader "Dove" but you can call her whatever you like, because her not mentioning a name is an actual plot point we'll get into later. ;)  
Thanks for sticking with me through my inconsistency, I love all three of you who keep with me on this crazy train.  
If you like this, please comment, it does me a happ. They are lifeblood to all writers everywhere.


	10. Shot Down in May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two sides to every coin, a Yin for every Yang, opposing yet attracting forces of laughter and heartbreak. The two of you are more similar than you realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was deadass the hardest chapter to write so far, sorry for the long wait (again). Also this chapter is about 70% reader, the next will have more interaction I promise.

It was a long night. 

You tossed and turned, trying to lose consciousness- but you were persistently interrupted by the burning migraine in your head. Also, you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were staring down at you with wide, unblinking eyes- judging you as you tried to sleep.

There was no chance of sleep. 

Your own eyes remained wide open as your strained hands clutched at your sheet-covered chest.

You didn’t often have insomnia. There may have been a few episodes of it when you visited your doctor many years ago, but nowadays it was mostly unheard of.

You were scared.

No, you were  _ terrified  _ and despairing.

To think you held a fate in your hands today.

Thomas Wayne almost died today, because of you. Just a single finger tightening around metal could’ve ended the man’s life.

That alone sickened you to your soul. Maybe you were in the heat of the moment, overtaken by your rage- but it wasn’t right at all.

The man was cruel, but you weren’t cruel enough to make him suffer.

You felt the same pang on the train all those nights ago with those evil men. 

Even after everything they did- how much they hurt you and Arthur… you wished they could be  _ spared. _

You had seen death before. It was quite simply the most gruesome, horrifying feeling you had ever experienced, and you never wanted anyone else to know it. A fog was beginning to clear away from your darkest hidden memories, your nightmares rife with them and only getting stronger every hour. The fearful anticipation of said nightmares was what kept you up all night- eyes wide open and trained on the ceiling.

You shuddered as you recalled his name.  _ Arthur… _

How badly you wanted to tell him you were sorry to have left him at the gala. But you had been so distraught at the recovered knowledge that all you could’ve done, was  _ run. _

But you abandoned him. When he still needed your help.

_ How did they get him out of that building? Did they harm him? _

_ _ The thought alone brought tears to your eyes again.

_ Arthur, I’m sorry for abandoning you. I’m so sorry. _

_ _ Burying yourself in blankets, you tried your best to block out the ringing in your skull. Trying to sleep was no use, so your eyes simply stared at fabric.

Or so you thought it was no use. Because after too many hours, you finally let yourself drift away.

————

_ “...And he says, ‘But I got no reaction!” You squeal as the punchline of your story rolls effortlessly from your tongue. _

_ Cecelia’s growing chuckle made her long strands of hair tumble from your grasp. _

_ “Mother! Hold still, I can’t make your bun nice and neat if you struggle!” You said, as she laughed heartily. _

_ “Oh, my sweet girl, I can’t help but laugh at your brilliant jokes!” The woman replies, adding the final pats of rouge to her cheeks. _

_ “Are you two ready?” Another voice joins in. You both turn towards the open door, to see your unmistakable blond haired father looking in. _

_ “Just about, a few more things need doing.” You call out as you finish up the hairdo. _

_ Your father smiled. “How did I get so lucky to have you two perfect ladies in my life?” _

_ “Oh, go get us some mimosas or something!” You jump up to playfully shoo him out, but he halts for a moment. _

_ “They need you in about five minutes, honey.” He looks down at you, and back to her.  _

_ “I’m so proud of you both.” He smiles as he closes the door. You race back to the task at hand. _

_ Your mother turns to face you again.  _

_ “If you weren’t such a passionate aspiring politician, why, you could become such a great comedian!” _

_ “Maybe.” You start, as the final pin is put in place, holding all loose strands back. “But I want to be a politician, with you! Even if I can’t become mayor, like you, I want to be your strongest supporter! I want to help you fix Gotham!” _

_ It was true. The votes were in- your mother had won the popular vote, by an astounding amount.  _

_ She officially became the Mayor of Gotham today. And you’d be sure she looked the part. _

_ Her face dropped ever so slightly at your response. Were you too naive? But the look faded almost instantly. _

_ “Oh, dear. What would I ever do without you?” She asks, as her chair turns and hands gently pat you on your own head. “You have to be careful, however. These people are very hurt, and the likely reason why I was chosen was because I promised to truly take matters into hand. Many of my colleagues disapprove of this- especially Wayne.” _

_ That confused you. “But why? I thought he was your friend.” _

_ She shrugged. “He is. I supposed that he simply didn’t approve of the way these events played out, but it is what it is. _

_ “Why? The position’s yours. Why does he and the others have to be bitter about it?” _

_ “Dear,” She turns around, one free hand ruffling your own hair. _

_ _ “Things aren’t black and white. There are some things that you have no control over, and denying that will only break your heart.”

That last bit seemed far clearer than everything else that was said.

Your eyes opened to the morning light filtering through your window.

You were wracked by grief as you realized that memories you had tried so hard to suppress were resurfacing in your dreams.

_ I can’t believe how naive I once was. _

_ _ It had almost been a week since that incident in the theatre- you hadn’t left your home much since then. 

You wanted to stay in bed all day- but you had some things to do, so that was most likely not smart. The fridge was almost empty- you’d need to do a run to the market, maybe buy some medicine to help your headache. 

_ Just buy what you need, then go back home. _

_ Simple enough, and then you can sleep again. _

At the place, your breathing- no matter how much you tried to keep it smooth, still rattled with every inhale. People may have given you strange looks at your shaking hands or the prominent darkness under your eyes, but you didn’t notice.

As you walked through the aisles of the market, you searched for anything that would ease the pain in your head. You saw a familiar label on a bottle- a brand you knew enough about. You reached up to grab it, but it was just one shelf too high for you to reach.

“Oh, do you need help?” A soft set of footsteps from behind you can be heard, as you slowly turn around. A slightly taller woman with a basket stops, reaching for the bottle, and points to its label- to which you nod.

“Here you are,” she says, and you give her a feeble whisper of thanks.

She has a dark complexion and warm eyes- she looks kind of friendly. A tiny carbon-copy child clings to her other arm.

“Th-thanks,”

“No problem. Seems like we all need a little pick-me-up these days,” she says with a light chuckle.

“H-huh?” You stutter, unsure of what she meant by that.

“Oh, never mind,” she says, her grin faltering slightly.

The atmosphere quickly became awkward. You fiddled with the bottle of painkillers.

She didn’t seem annoyed, however. Or maybe she was just being polite.

“I could’ve sworn that I’ve seen you around somewhere before,” she says, as the two of them walked to checkout with you trailing close behind.

“O-oh,” you begin again, with your signature stutter. “Y-you probably have, but you don’t need to,”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” You weren’t sure how to project your… ‘unique’ feelings onto this bystander, so you give her the simplest answer- “T-there’s so many things and people who deserve your attention more than I do, y’see? You don’t have to… u-uhm..”

She turned around, cutting off your route back home.

“Don’t say that,” she looks right at you- the eye contact burning into you. “Even if you say that about yourself, there could be so many who cherish you.”

You look away. 

If only you could have that joy.

“ _ Are you sure _ ?” You whisper so quietly that she most likely doesn’t hear- or her concerned gaze is self explanatory.

“Well, if I ever do see you around again,” she continues, a hopeful tone to her voice. “I wouldn’t mind talking with you again, miss.”

“Bye,” Her kid waved to you, and you returned the gesture as they both walked down the sidewalk in your opposite direction.  _ What a cutie. _

_ _ Suddenly, she stopped, and looked back at you.

“My name’s Sophie, by the way,”

“O-oh!” You almost chirp, taken slightly aback.

“M-my name’s, um, u-uhh...” 

Your train of thought derailed. 

_ Have you seriously forgotten your own name? _

_ _ Mentally you kicked yourself. Here you were, trying to strike up a conversation with another human, maybe turn things around for your mind- yet you couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your damn name.

_ “My Dove?” _

_ _ A strangely sweet, yet oddly familiar voice rang out in your memories. 

_ Yes, ok. That rang a bell. _

_ _ “M-my name’s Dove… I.. yeah.”

She gave you an amused look, raising one eyebrow.

“Nice to meet you.” 

Then, she turns again, to leave.

Once again, you internally kick yourself.

_ There goes my opportunity to have a normal friend. _

_ _ Sighing heavily, you pick your grocery bag back over your shoulders. 

You had everything you needed. Food, painkillers, and… a little something else. One more errand to do, and then it was back home for the day.

————

The door slammed shut behind him, but Arthur heard nothing. The scorching hot heartbeat in his skull did wonders to deafen the noise. Feeling nothing but panic, he ran as far down the stairwell as he could- and at a spot somewhere in the middle, the echoes of his footfalls rang out and left him in a pin-drop silence.

_ He had it. The truth, in his hands. _

The folder of everything his mother was, he could finally know.

He opened it wide, and was immediately greeted by the disheartening information he knew deep down, was _ always there. _

_ _ She wasn’t his mother.

He didn’t even know anymore, but the papers said so. 

She was broken, somewhat like him.

No…  _ she broke him. _

_ _ He saw the nightmares he had every single night since then, the injuries.. 

He saw her.  _ The pale woman in the asylum, laced with black marks across her eyes. Not his mother. _

_ “...Penny. Your son was found tied to a radiator, severely malnourished, with bruises across _

“He never cried…  _ He’d always been such a happy little boy…” _

His heart thrashed against his ribcage, his breath came in weak gasps as the painful laughter rang louder than it ever had before. 

And he felt the water run down his face, as the laughter almost paralyzed him- as it always did.

————

_ “Thank you, all of you. I hope this day becomes the first of many where our city becomes brighter than ever before!” _

_ The crowd actually cheered, you among the loudest, on the small stage.  _

_ When you suddenly noticed- _

_ Where was Mr. Wayne? He should be here! _

_ “Now, on account of the city’s funding in certain industries---” _

_ _

_ Suddenly, your eardrums felt as if they exploded. There must’ve been a loud noise- and then no sound except a hollow ringing. _

_ What was that? _

_ There was a commotion in the crowd. _

_ Then you heard it. A shrill, loud mass of noise, that you could only trace as- w-what… screams?! _

_ What had happened?! _

_ The people in the crowd were running in every direction, the chaotic amalgamation of horrified shouts now plainly audible and clear. _

_ You turn, with the intention of asking your mother what had happened- when you see- _

_ Nothing, she’s just as you had seen her before, her lovely makeup and hair, her yellow dress that you adored, eyes wide open as she stared at--  _

_ ...Wait. _

_ Everything was the same, except, except for……  _

_ A bright red pin-prick directly in the middle of her brow. _

_ ...It was as if every organ in your body had stopped working at the same moment. _

_ “Mom..?!” You called as you ran to her, but not before she had dropped to her knees. Red ribbons began to run from her nose and mouth, and she fell again- this time, you caught her as best you could before her back met the hard wood.  _

_ “Mom, no!” You cry, and your eyes flash upwards, searching for anyone, anything that will help. You point at the closest civilian.  _

_ “YOU!! Please, call Arkham, anything! Please, get help!!” Tears begin to fog your vision. _

_ She looks up at you. “L-Little Dove…?” She tries, but more blood only flows from her mouth. _

_ “MOM! It’s okay, help is coming!!” You yell, a little too loudly. “P-Please, just stay with me! _

_ “I love you, s-sweetheart…” _

_ “I love you too!!” You shout again, without realizing what you said.  _

_ The red runs all the way down her face, and her muscles slacken in your arms.  _

_ And then, she stares blankly towards the sky. _

_ You shake her. Over and over again. _

_ “Mom? MOM! OH GOD NO!” _

_ There are people staring across the empty square, and one or two phone booths are occupied off in the distance.  _

_ You keep crying, your blood and skin going ice cold, but your tears are searing as you keep trying to rouse your mother back awake. _

_ But she didn’t answer, and your limbs were going stiff as the tips of your fingers began to shake. _

_ _ ** _“MAMA!”_ **

————

You shot up from the bed, mid-scream as a thundering boom and flash of white illuminated the space. Your forehead and all four limbs were soaked in sweat. Untangling yourself from the mess of disheveled sheets, you pulled yourself up. That was hard- your legs were extremely sore- you must’ve slept on them uncomfortably. 

_ It was just a dream… I think.  _

Pulling open the curtains, you were dismayed at the sight of the night sky- shrouded in clouds and endless sheets of rain.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you looked in the little mirror. 

Your hair was a matted mess, and your face was red and puffy- paired with the glassy eyes, you must've been crying in your sleep.

After grabbing the brush, you returned to pull on a fresh set of clothing and make the bed slightly more presentable.

A flash of lightning and a sound like an explosion made you jump- 

And the soft light from the lamps in the living room went out. It was so quiet, you could clearly hear your accelerated heartbeat. 

You fumbled around in the dark for a candle and lighter- things you knew were in that drawer next to the bureau and front door. 

You had just flicked the lighter on when-

_ “That was your fault, you know.” _

_ _ You jumped. But then you saw the reflection- just barely, in the dim glow of the flame- scowling intently into your own eyes.

_ “If you hadn’t been so oblivious to the people around you, you could have saved her.” _

_ _ “What? N-no! I couldn’t--”

_ “I’m only here because you let me in. Because you wanted to forget. Because you wanted to block the responsibility of what happened.” _

_ _ Silence from you as  _ you  _ reprimanded  _ yourself. _

_ “I’m here because you’re  _ ** _weak._ ** _ ” _

_ _

You snapped. You don’t know why, but you did. 

Your voice was a mixture of fear and anger- but mostly fear.

“YOU’RE NOT REAL! I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I DON’T NEED TO REMIND MYSELF ANYMORE!” You shouted at the mirror-

And your hands stopped shaking when they curled into fists.

————

After everything that had happened, Arthur had only one goal. The despair and rage brought him back to his mother's side, bristling with all the tumbling emotions that urged him to  _ kill.  _

He had felt it on the subway. And it was rising, coming back in his skull and hands again. 

He muttered under his breath. 

“You know, I used to think that my life was a tragedy, but now I realize it’s a fucking  _ comedy,” _ He lunged forward, grasping her pillow, knowing exactly what he was about to do.

And he had been about to do it- when something caught his eye. A small folded paper, nestled onto her lap. 

He halted. And then he turned around to see an odd sight he had strangely not noticed before.

A tall, beautiful bouquet of crystal white flowers sat proudly on the nightstand, in an absurdly opulent vase. The flowers glowed, soft yellow ribbons of light filtering through the window from the setting sun, creating a halo around them.

They were perfect, not a single blemish or wilted petal. These were certainly not picked from right outside.

And then he made a decision that wasn’t for himself.

A hazy, lifeless stare burned into his own as both hands were removed from the pillow.

“I’m not your son,” he said in a voice to quiet for anyone to hear.

“Did you ever care about me?”

If she could’ve even answered him, she didn’t.

He looked back to the nightstand, back to the white flowers. On closer inspection, he saw a huge variety of strange, foreign flowers- all snow white. Some roses, lilies, daisies, and some others that Arthur had never even seen or heard of.

He could only come to one conclusion- whoever brought this bouquet, had most definitely spent a small fortune on it.

Arthur didn’t even have to figure it out from the little folded card- there was only one person in Gotham he knew that cared enough to send his nameless mother a gift, and who had a penchant exclusively for white flowers.

But not a single one was that of the small, simple white blossom that he associated with you so fervently.  _ Why not? _

None of that mattered. They were for  _ her,  _ not him.

_ I need you. _

He forgot his quarrel with his ‘mother’. He forgot her entirely.

He forgot all the insult and injury he felt, trying to hide his… joy for so long, and had to find the only one who cared.

_ She  _ didn’t matter to him anymore- she’d most definitely rot away and die in that hospital bed, only to be moved a week later by some unsuspecting nurse.

But  _ you… you were a different story. _

_ _ And all of Gotham would burn before you got hurt, if he had a say in  _ that. _

————

Curled up on the floor, you cried harder than you ever had before. The pristine shards of shattered float glass sat around you, reflecting every single flash of lightning.

_ I can’t hear you anymore. _

Your hands shook violently once again- but this time, it was for an entirely different reason than your tremors.

_ It’s over…  _

But  _ they hurt so badly. _

_ _ Your hands were absolutely mangled, bruised and a bone or two was probably broken- a product of your hits, over and over again. The skin of your knuckles was torn in many different places, and you could’ve sworn a white glint was caught in the flashes.

And of course, the blood fell profusely from every single cut, but your body was numb- you couldn’t get up and find the bandages, you only stayed in that ball, holding your head in your hands- the metallic tang overwhelming your sense of smell and sickening you.

You were so alone- 

And after an unknown amount of time, there was a loud knock at the front door- you almost mistook it for lightning- but it was right next to you (Which almost made you jump again.)

Slowly, you got back to your feet, getting to the door. 

Your hands are weak, but they pull open the door.

And of course, it’s no one other than  _ him. _

_ _ He held a mass of papers in his hands, but they were dropped to the floor after he stepped over your threshold and walked right up to you, seizing your face with both hands as he kisses you. 

But this… is nothing like that one kiss you shared under the moonlight, what felt like centuries ago. The one that was soft, curious, and testing the waters- felt like sweet romance in comparison. 

This was all desperation, teeth and hunger, as if the two of you wouldn’t live to see the sunrise. The wind pushes your front door shut as he backs you against the wall of the front hallway- your hands bracing against the plaster wall behind you and beginning to slip from the stickiness of your flowing blood. He wasn’t a tall man at all, but you were still shorter- and your neck craned painfully to meet his touch.

You break out, gasping for air- and backed further away. This ferocity was so unlike him, and it was  _ terrifying.  _ But, your heart thunders against your chest and you feel a strange heat in your head and most of your chest- you slowly begin to realize that you  _ like the fire and wouldn’t mind if you burned alive. _

_ What did you just say? _

_ _ “W-what happened, Arthur?”

After a long hesitation, you look back into his eyes- they are red.

“I had the most terrible day.”

You didn’t doubt that- one blood-covered hand moved up to sweep across his cheekbone-

And then his gaze landed on that hand, and his face contorted into what looked like dismay.

“What happened to  _ you?”  _ He asks, with urgency.

_ _ You looked down at the shattered glass on the floor- him following the line of sight.

“The voice… is gone.” You rasp.

He didn’t say anything after that, but went straight into your bathroom and returned with a thin towel. There was a strange determination in his eyes as the cloth was loudly torn- the noise making you jump again.

_ _ He looked down at your hands, now thoroughly wrapped in white strips of cloth that would serve as bandages- all the way up past your wrists. And between the sturdiness of the material, the stopping of the flow of blood, and the warmth from his hands curling around your own, they stopped shaking.

“You’re... still beautiful.”

You cut him off, lunging directly into his arms, tears flying freely from your neck as you leaned into his. Again, you wrap your arms around him, albeit carefully around your weak hands. He doesn’t hug back, but this time you were the one who wouldn’t let go.

“I’m sorry, for everything. I shouldn’t have left you alone in that hell.”

And then, he too relaxes.

You didn’t know the pain in his back and shoulders from where they threw him against the concrete stairs, out of the benefit.

But he, deep down, didn’t care. He had freedom, and he had you.

And you… who knew you’d become so attached to someone who only a short time ago, was a complete stranger.

A stranger who was also a murderer. An  _ insane  _ murderer.

But…  _ everyone was insane. _

_ You might as well accept the truth. _

The pain of reality was far too overbearing.

And maybe this man was the only living person in the world who cared about you.

So… you’d detach yourself from said reality. 

After all, there was no logic in your sadness.

You forgot about all of those mind-breaking memories.

But in doing so, you forgot yourself.

You forgot that scared girl who blamed herself for everything and lived in the past.

You weren’t your mother’s dove anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they snuggle together and sing Kumbaya, or do they do something spicy that I will NOT write in because I cannot write spicy scenes to save my life? That’s up to you.  
Sorry if it seems like a rushed mess lol. Please send constructive feedback if you have it, it helps me improve. <3


	11. The Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It invites you inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok I'm sorry for the delay but I can explain- if I wasn't sick myself, I was at my "essential" job doing non essential work. Also, this story's plot kind of ran away from me for a while, it was hard to get it under control in a way that felt natural and good (enough) to read. It's probably a messy mess, idk but I am a humble servant for the internet. But I promise, I NEVER forgot about this, and I will try my damndest to get the next chapters out faster than the last times. So, sorry to keep you waiting, here's the next chapter!

_ “Easy, be careful with that one. She’s been through hell. Don’t know how she’d react to human contact right now.” _

_ Joanne nodded at the orderly. She didn’t know much about this case when the ambulance dumped her at Arkham a week ago, but knew it was a serious one.  _

_ She didn’t hear much from the paramedics- only that they had received several emergency calls from the city hall that the Mayor-to-be had been shot. And that they had arrived to a horrifying sight- a young woman, her arms hugging the dead woman close, frozen with her eyes wide open. She hadn’t even been crying.  _

_ The paramedics had concluded that it was shock, but Joanne had to see it to believe it.  _

_ She hadn’t spoken a word since that day. _

_ And quite frankly, the nurse couldn’t blame her for that. _

_ The mayor was gone, and her husband seemed to have disappeared, and their poor daughter lay here, trapped in Arkham.  _

_ “Any contact from the mayor’s husband?” _

_ “No, nothing. It’s like he just… up and disappeared.” _

_ She sat in the isolation room, curled into a ball in the farthest corner and pressing her face and body into the wall, head hanging low.  _

_ “_? Miss _?”  _

_ No response. The girl didn’t even budge. _

_ “Now what?” She whispered back to the orderly. _

_ He pored over his file folder. “Try Dove,” he whispered back. “It’s been recorded to be her mother’s nickname for her.” _

_ It felt so inappropriate to use, but she needed to eat something. “Dove,” Joanne called out. _

_ Like a charm, she looked up- an audible crick from her neck sounding across the cell as darkened, sad eyes looked up at the two hospital wardens. _

_ She took the cue when it came. “Good morning, sweetie. My name is Nurse Joanne, and I’ll be taking care of you for a while. _

_ Her eyes widened slightly, and her jaw opened and closed like a weak pair of scissors. It wasn’t clear if she could speak, or if she was just choosing not to. _

_ _

————

_ _ When you woke up, there was a strange feeling of peace in the air. You couldn’t quite explain it- you couldn’t explain the disheveled blankets covering your bed, the odd scent coming from the sheets tangled around your legs, or the open windows, but they were there. The thin fabric curtains fluttered in the wind, and warm yellow sunlight poured in. 

You had a slight feeling of amazement- you hadn’t slept this well in years. Your eyes didn’t burn, your heartbeat was noticeably slower, and the throbbing pain in your hands was dulled significantly. 

_ Wait. _

_ My hands…  _

_ _ A cold tidal wave ripped over you as the realization of what happened last night dawned on you. The nightmares, the broken mirror, Arthur taking care of your hands-

_ Arthur! _

You jumped out of bed, looking in every corner of the room.  _ That must’ve explained the smell in your bedsheets… no.  _ A tinge of embarrassment went up your spine as you tried to recall what had happened, but your mind only came back up blank. 

_ No, no, no.  _ It wasn’t exactly an… ‘intimate’ smell per se, but more so just the smell of a different body.

The house was deathly quiet, save for the faint sounds of the city just outside your closed window. 

He was nowhere to be found- that thought gave you a tiny feeling of sadness.

But that feeling was overshadowed by the warmth in your heart- you felt  _ good  _ today. So good, in fact, that you pulled open your closet, and found your mother’s beautiful yellow swing dress- the one you hadn’t touched in years, mostly out of shame.

But today, you had a feeling that she wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it.

After shaking out the dust, it looked just as nice as the last time it was worn.

You smiled. As a kid, you always stared in awe and adoration when your mother wore this number, for parties and formal events you were too small to attend. 

And once again, your smile brightened as you carefully slipped on the dress- and it fit almost perfectly. 

Like it was simply waiting for you to come to your senses.

But the fact still stood- you didn’t know what had really happened to him, why he had come to your home last night. Granted, his company was beyond nice.

_ But why? _

_ _

_ You needed to talk to him. _

Walking down the hall again, you stopped at the door just across from your room. The one that hadn’t been opened in two years. Before leaving, you pushed it open… you had a feeling that you  _ needed to. _

_ _ That door opened with a shockingly loud  _ crack. _

The room was spotless- the double bed made neatly, not a single drop of trash or laundry on the floor- had it not been for the fine layer of dust and the vase of long-dead flowers, nothing would have seemed wrong.

You began to shiver- there was a reason you always kept this door shut- why you never touched a thing in this room.

You saw, almost as clear as day- a silhouette of a memory- of a small child cuddled up between a man and woman, as they read and laughed together.

You close the door, one last time. You’d always leave that room untouched. You hadn’t even gone in there in years. 

If you had… you would’ve noticed the rot in the walls… the persistent green vines that climbed their way up the scaffolding and window panes, and perched outside the window... just aching to be let in.

Vines that come spring, would bring forth glowing white blossoms.

————

The walk felt much longer than it ever had before, today. You weren’t quite sure why. It seemed to be much warmer today, and the sun was bright, covered by no clouds. 

Gray birds flew overhead, making their presence known with song. You could’ve sworn that you saw a flash of bright yellow amongst them, but you quickly push it away as your mind playing tricks on you. 

And as you stood in front of that tall, dark building, you couldn’t help but feel that  _ something was off _ .

_ But what? _

_ _ The rickety elevator brings you to a stop at the correct floor, but you can barely hear the noise over your own muddled thoughts.

And right as you make your way to the end of the corridor, a child comes running out of Arthur’s apartment, and slamming the door behind him, and he makes a beeline towards you.

No, wait- it’s a small man. A short, dwarfish man with shorter hair. 

“Excuse me!” He shouts, as he tries to rocket past you and towards the stairs. 

“Are you alright? Are you okay?” You pester the man.

“W-who the fuc--? No, I don’t care. Get the H-HELL out of here, someone just got killed!”

You stopped cold. “ _ What?  _ W-what happened? Is he- Arthur- is he okay!? _ ” _ You stutter, fussing like a concerned mother. 

The man looked at you like you were the biggest freak in Gotham.

“You KNOW that bastard?”

“I- ..yes?” 

“I don’t understand,” He said in a small, scared voice. “I- he- my friend,” his voice was cracking. “Arthur k-killed him.”

You dashed past the little man, and he wheeled around after you. 

“DON’T-!” He began, but as soon as your hand closed around the door handle, he turned back around and fled, his footsteps fading down the stairwell.

You pulled the door open, only to be greeted by a scent of death so strong- you would’ve lost your breakfast… if you had actually  _ eaten  _ anything.

But there he was, your Arthur, sitting on the floor next to a huge, unmoving body. 

You hopelessly prayed that he wasn’t dead- but the bloodstains on the wall, they begged to differ. They were grotesque to look at- like a scene out of a horror show.

But Arthur looked even worse- his face a ghostly pale, with a noticeable spatter of blood across it- he was like a ruined canvas. The red paint spilled carelessly across before it could be given its breath of life- a stain.

His face relaxed, and he gave you a lighthearted, happy grin- almost as if oblivious to the carnage around him.

_ Why are you not surprised to see me? _

“Hey, you.” He started, voice sounding more optimistic than usual. 

“Did you know I’m going to be on the Murray Franklin Show tonight?”

The happiness and joy you felt this morning all came crashing down around you.

You should’ve known all along. You were there, on that train, after all. You saw this man kill three others. You knew that he was a murderer, that he’d murder  _ again. _

_ You knew, and you didn’t run.  _

_ _ You should have ran, reported him to the police the moment those eight gunshots cut through the night, but you didn’t. A feeling you felt when he saved your life that day, it was unlike anything you’d ever known.

You concealed him, you were just as much a criminal as he now.

He saw you staring in horror at Randall’s unmoving body. 

And then looked back up at you, the smile fading from his lips, and the hollow grayness returned to his eyes.

“ _ Sweetheart… _ ” He said it so quietly- had it not been for the pin-drop silence between you, you wouldn’t have heard.

“Please... don’t look.” 

The giddiness that had been in his voice a moment ago was entirely gone.

“Please, not you too.” A desperate hand reaches outwards- and you jump backwards, your self-preservation kicking in. 

Your back hit the wood of the door again, and your hand closed around the brass, but you didn’t move again- you didn’t know what to do, and your urge to  _ run away and never look back _ was overwhelming.

_ You didn’t run from him on the train. _

You jumped slightly, at the thought that just made itself known. It was  _ your own  _ thought, but something about it felt so  _ foreign. _

_ Why would you run from him now, when he needs you most? _

And with the next words, your fate was sealed.

“I c-can’t, I can’t.” You spoke between sobs.

“What?” He presses.

“I… I can’t leave…”

_ not now.. I’m… in too deep. _

————

There was a lot of noise from the bathroom, mingling with Frank Sinatra’s voice on the small radio, but you wouldn’t turn it off. You sat on the small sofa, waiting for whatever Arthur was doing in there to be done. Your head rested in your hands as the front door called out to you. 

_ This was a bad idea. Maybe I should just go.  _

_ _ You wanted to go, but something was holding you back.

_ You can’t leave. Not after last night..how he trusted you enough to come to you and comfort you after the nightmares… and after the benefit… how he forgave you for abandoning him… and that night after the comedy club… how he danced with you, made you feel loved, how he kissed you, and kissed you again in the rain last night, _

You shivered as more memories were recalled from darkness.

_ How he killed a man to save you.. _

_ _ Of course.. you remembered all of them.

_ The least you can do is stay with him when he needs you. _

_ _ Your thoughts were cut off as the door opened. You turned around to get a look.

And your jaw dropped. 

The man before you was in no way the same person you knew. His hair was dyed a shocking green, and the deep crimson suit he wore offset it so sharply- the sight almost gave you vertigo.

But your attention was shared by his face. Painted a snow white, dark blue diamonds covered his eyes and a huge, bright red smile ran all the way up his cheekbones. 

You can’t understand why, but it is _staggeringly_ _beautiful_.

He smiles softly towards you. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

“I- O-of course,” you say without hesitation.

And so you do. Following him out of the building, you get hit by a piercing feeling of awkwardness, that people might look at the two of you like you are heathens-  _ “why is that fool dressed like that?”  _ Or something like that. Your worry slightly begins to grow in the pit of your stomach again.

_ Maybe we can hide out for a while before the show,  _ you think to yourself as you reach the end of the huge staircase.

“Hey, Arthur, when do you have to be—?” 

You look around. Where did he go? 

And as you look back up the stairwell, you see him. Far up behind you, he’s only just halfway down. But what really catches your attention is that he’s—

_ ...dancing? _

_ _ His arms move gracefully yet aggressively back and forth, and his legs kick the air in front of him as he descends each step with a jump. It’s a remarkable performance, too bad no one’s around to see it.

You almost work up your bravado enough to walk back up towards him and join him in dance- when two dark shapes further up the stairs catch your eyesight. The shapes of two people.

A mild panic rises in your chest as they stand motionless at the top of the well.

_ Maybe they’re just intrigued strangers? _

But your paranoia is proven to be correct as a voice calls out, ringing across the alley.

“...‘ey, Arthur!”

The call gets his attention- his movements coming to an abrupt halt.

“We need to talk!” 

He looks frozen for a split moment, but then he turns back down, immediately booking it down towards you. 

The yells of the two men grow in volume as they begin pursuit towards the two of you.

And the inexplicable feeling of horror grows in your mind. It only grows stronger as Arthur draws nearer to you, and so too do the men. And you see their suits, and a glint of sunlight catches in a badge-

You suddenly understand. They’re  _ cops _ . They’re coming for him. They’ll hurt him. And by extension, they’ll hurt you for your affiliation.

Arthur races past you, but you’re still bolted to the bottom of the stairs. He runs, full speed down the street to your left.

The cops were about halfway down the stairwell when you finally freed yourself from the paralysis- and took off in a sprint… to the  **right** .

You ran so fast, you didn’t notice Arthur as he looked over his shoulder at your retreating form, reaching out towards you as he ran into the street, unaware of oncoming cars. 

————

You ran and ran as far as you could- you ran until you were sure your heart would burst from over-exertion. You did your best to listen- but you heard no sign of the chase behind you. 

You slowed down to a halt, stopping in a small alley tucked tightly between buildings. You took deep breaths as you pressed your palms to the brick wall of the alley.

And just barely, you saw your reflection in the glass window- and for once, you didn’t see a stranger. 

Instead you saw a familiar face with wide, distraught eyes full of panic, unshed tears, and hair tousled by the blasting wind.

And you saw yourself for who you truly were- a soul striving for vengeance and empathy- opposing forces that will tear you apart if left unchecked.

And your soul was being pulled in two directions so roughly, you didn’t know how much more of it you could take.

After you had your breathing and heart back in control, you walked back out of the alley. You couldn’t help but notice a well-trimmed shrub next to the buildings, several different flowers growing from its sides. And at the very far end, some of your white oleanders. So far in the back, that no one would touch them… but not including you.

You once again plucked a flower from the bush, and nestled it into your hair, covering up the barely-closed up wound. It didn’t cover up much, but you like how it looked. 

The sting of the flower’s venom brought you back to reality.

_ The fastest way to Murray’s studio was the subway. _ You thought to yourself, as you ran in a direction that would bring you to a station. You worried that you had abandoned Arthur in an attempt to evade danger, but you could  _ not  _ abandon him again. You had to find him.

————

The train you had gotten onto was a strange case. It was packed full of people, all wearing masks. 

_ What was going on? _

_ _ The impenetrable sea of bodies seemed agitated. You had to move yourself out of the middle, or else you’d definitely find some kind of danger.

The train moved fast, towards another stop, and more people flooded in. 

You had no idea where Arthur was, but you had to protect yourself right now, and boarding this train was most likely a horrible idea.

A man in a mask directly next to you had wheeled back and punched another. But then he ducked out of the way and the struck man stared at you with malice in his eyes.

Then your blood froze as you caught on.  _ He thought you did it! _

_ “ _ Wait, no, I didn’t-!” You cried over the crowd, but you were unheard.

The impact was weaker than the first time, but it was still strong enough to send you backwards, and your cheekbone hits the sealed door of the train with a nightmare-inducingly loud  _ crack. _

Your legs began to slump against the metal and glass. You knew it. The second time you lay injured in a train would be your last.

This time, you would most certainly die.

However- the good news is.. you didn’t.

Three gunshots rang out, scattering the crowd- you didn’t know where they came from. 

The man who struck you lay, unquestionably dead just a hair’s breath away from you.

It’s all you can do to not scream your lungs out in terror at the chaos around you.

You’re pulled sharply back up to your feet. A female-sounding voice from somewhere asks if you’re okay. Your gaze flashes around- but the hands who helped you up were not Arthur’s.

You feel like you’re drowning in panic as you scan the crowd as quickly as you can- searching for that crimson suit and painted face that was your Arthur.

You had no sight of him.

Suddenly, the train doors open and the people burst out like water from a pressurized pipe. 

You try calling out for Arthur, but your cries are hopelessly nullified by the combined screeching of other people and trains. You are pushed out of the train by the force of others, and there is a brief flash of pain- as your right ankle twists hard, sending you down hard to the platform.

People all around you rush to get out- you shield yourself with your hands, and after a minute, you look around, pushing yourself back up to your feet.

And suddenly, you recognize those two cops. The ones who had chased him. You see the shorter cop as he sprints for what you know is his life, and he just barely gets out of the undertow. 

But the second, isn’t so lucky.

He is thrown to the platform by the crowd, beaten over and over by the masked predators above him.

Your impulse drive takes over- you don’t know what comes over you as you launch yourself forward, pushing the crowd aside.

You fall onto fours over the detective- his face and neck bloodied and bruised, you can’t let this happen to him, you don’t care who he is! This was a fate you didn’t want anyone to know.

One of your arms raises to shield your face, but it doesn’t do much to protect you. Your cries of pain ring loud over the crowd as they beat the two of you relentlessly, as you get lower and lower to protect the man. As your vision weakens you finally look over and see him… the red-adorned man that is your Arthur… looking down at the carnage from behind his mask

He raises said mask, a fox-like grin adorning his painted face as he watched the carnage. 

And then he sees you.

He saw the blood beginning to trickle from the deep scrape on your forehead, as you used your body weight to shield the police officer from the fight. How your arms shook as they barely held you up...

The smile died.

And the replacing horror was unparallelled, his brow darkened and mouth curled downward into an outraged stare.

He walked straight to you, many of the crowd parting to let him pass.

_ Like a god. _

_ _ With a surprising strength, he pulled you to your feet, and your head shook- a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the pounding pain in your skull.

And without a word, he twists around, and walks away- pulling you along with him. The mask he held is thrown into the garbage as he passes it. 

You try to run alongside him, but a stabbing pain shoots through your right leg somewhere- the door may have twisted your foot badly, but you can still walk- somewhat. The run is more of a fast limp.

“Arthur! Wait up, please!” You call out to him- he’s going too fast. He doesn’t look back as he walks through the long corridor out of the subway, with a confident swagger.

Police sprint past the two of you, going straight for the crowd at the subway.

“ARTHUR!” Your cry rings loud, and without any stutter. This stops him, as he looks back at you. But something’s off. His eyes are heavily darkened, and there’s an undeniable malice in them- you almost back away to run from the sight.

But his hands firmly closed in on your shoulders, holding you in place. The darkness in his eyes subsides somewhat at the sight of you, but it’s still very much prevalent.

“ **My dear** ,” a voice responds to you, sounding nothing like the man you thought you loved. Dark, emotionless, and strong, this was in no way the same man you danced under the moonlight with. 

That fact alone was enough to break what was left of your already shattered heart.

He held on to your right shoulder with a grip that would surely bruise as the other gently curled against your jaw, holding your face up to meet his gaze above. He leans slightly closer, his forehead an inch or so above yours.

“Please don’t cry.”

It felt more akin to a command, than a plea. And it alone terrified you.

However, you couldn’t stop. All you could feel was pain. And you could only follow him as he walked away again.

You couldn’t turn away anymore. You didn’t  _ want to _ . The warmth he made you feel, after all those years in the cold, had you addicted. 

This feeling… you knew what it was now.

You… you… no. 

_ No _ . 

You couldn’t say it. You didn’t deserve to say it.

You were a companion to him, and nothing more.

He didn’t love you.

He does not love you.

He will never love you.

... _ right?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . . . . .


End file.
